Nepenthe
by I-write-hurt-not-comfort
Summary: High-school AU. When Leo gets transferred to the most prestigious school in the country by a scholarship, a certain blonde waltzes into his life. But with a past only him and his mother barely share, keeping up the constant façade of "I'm fine" becomes nearly impossible - especially when that blonde ends up with him 6 hours a day, 5 days a week. Rated M for drugs, mlm, death etc
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**_(A/Ns: I said I'd be back, didn't I? I aint resting forever. So anyway, this is purely AU. I don't want to say too much now, but this story will eventually handle some pretty dark/serious themes such as drug use and addiction, suicidal thoughts, death etc. The story will not all be first person, it'll switch to 3rd person after this, and I'm hoping chapters will reach around 3.5-4k words. I'm hoping updates won't take much more than 2 weeks, but no promises on that one. This will also contain some yaoi, but no smut whatsoever - at most it's angst and a bit of fluff. If you don't like yaoi, don't read. Simple as._**

 ** _Please review! I know this isn't the largest of fandoms but meh, in some ways that's better. Anyways, if you get the time, feel free to let me know what you think about the fic!_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Prologue**

 ** _"_** ** _Nepenthe"_**

 **Noun**

 **1\. a drug or drink, or the plant yielding it, mentioned by ancient writers as having the power to bring forgetfulness of sorrow or trouble.**

 **2\. anything inducing a pleasurable sensation of forgetfulness, especially of sorrow or trouble.**

* * *

 _You hear those stories, about the people whose lives have been torn apart by something, which was completely out of their control. And you never think it'll be you._

 _It won't be you, right? No, it'll be the guy you bumped into on the bus, or the ex-friend you got grouped with in a school project. Or the stranger you shot a brief glance at, and made the quick assumption about that they were more broken than you. The point is, it'll never have anything to do with you. You're too good for that; too lucky for that._

 _Sometimes, and – as much as I'd like to put myself above this – I am included in this, we're just too presumptuous, and naïve; too arrogant to believe it'll be us. It's ugly, and disgusting – believe me, it is. However, we're better than that. We won't ever have to go through that._

 _It just won't be you._

 _But what you never consider is the chance of meeting someone who's been through all of that._

 _And then it hits you like a fucking train: they probably thought it wouldn't be them. Chances are they thought it'd be you, not them. No one ever thinks it'll be them._

 _But what if you did meet someone like that by chance? Someone who thought "it won't be me". And now they're stuck in something which they can't stop._

 _And now you've entered their life._

 _There's even less of a chance that your roads will directly cross, and you'll end up with them every single goddamn day of their broken life._

 _And from there, the chances of recovery, and a happy ending, are almost non-existent. If I hadn't have experienced it for myself, I'd say it was impossible. Anyone you retold this to would just think it was cringey, and cliché. For the best part of it, I'd say they were right._

 _I don't believe in fate. Although, whilst I'd like to believe this was just a coincidence, I can't shake the feeling that part was meant to happen._

 _If this didn't happen, where would we be now? I'd be lonely._

 _He'd probably be dead._

 _Until you see these things for yourself, you can't comprehend it. And I don't care who you are, or how good your empathy is; you can't._

 _But the endless nights, the tears, the fights, the constant worrying, the nights spent on the bathroom floor crouched in front of the toilet wondering if there's truly an end to any of this – it's not something you need to experience for yourself. Maybe it was worth it, maybe it wasn't._

 _It won't be you? That's what I said. That's what he said, before it did._

 _Oh, and I probably should've told you who I am already. If you wanted to know, my name is Elliot, and this is the story of the extent to which I went in order to fix his life for the better._

 _And_ his _name was Leo._


	2. Chapter 2

_**(A/Ns: I apologise for this taking so long. I had to finish the writing project I did for November. But ay, that's done. I'm on Christmas break soon, so hopefully I can get one more chapter up before Christmas, but no promises. I did finish this a few days ago but I was just reading through it, since I'm quite proud of my plans and I really wonna make this one good!**_

 _ **Thanks to the one person who favorited! I'm not particularly expecting many reviews or anything for this one, but if you are following and get a moment, be sure to give me a shout! All feedback is welcome :) But if you're gonna give me constructive criticism then please provide an example of where I'm going wrong or otherwise I won't know and I do want to make this good! No CW for this chapter, apart from some mild expletives.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

"Hey! Elliot! Wait up!"

 _Of course he's following…_

Elliot sighed, rolling his eyes and doing the exact opposite of what the blonde chasing him had asked him to do. Speeding up, he continued down the corridor to the principal's office, shutting his ears to the irritating blonde he so reluctantly dubbed as an 'acquaintance' who was still trying to catch up with him.

And, much to Elliot's dismay, he succeeded a couple of seconds later.

"Oz…" he grunted, although with the extra irritation added to his voice it ended up sounding more like a whine than anything else. Hopefully, Oz would get the hint from that. "Why are you following me here?"

"Don't be mean, Elliot~!" Oz scolded teasingly, flapping his arms around in some sort of attempt to validate his point. "I'm in your next class, right? We have Literature together!"

Internally, Elliot groaned; his excitability really did put his nerves on the edge. "I'm not going to class. I was called to the principal's office."

"Oh, I totally forgot! Congratulations on getting senior prefect, by the way." Oz beamed. "Haah… I tried sooo hard to get it. I'm happy Ada got the role too though! I can't wait to see you two working together."

 _I still can't believe that airhead's sister managed to get such a position…_ Elliot thought with yet another fed up roll of the eyes. There was a short break in the conversation, and the idea of having silence until he reached his destination was beginning to seem like it might happen.

Of course, when you were stuck with a cliché extrovert, it would never happen, and after a few seconds, Oz personally took it upon himself to bring an end to the brief moment tranquillity. "Do you know what you and Ada are doing there?"

"Not yet," Elliot replied nonchalantly, breathing out a sigh of relief once he noticed the principal's office up ahead. Unfortunately, half of his relief was killed once the realisation that Ada – the other Vessalius sibling – was already there hit him like a brick.

"I've heard rumours that there's a new student coming."

"Wouldn't that be great…" Elliot muttered sarcastically under his breath. "Alright, shorty, get lost. I have work to do."

"Have fun!" Oz waved him off, turning into the classroom just to their left. "Say hi to Ada for me!"

"Whatever," Elliot murmured, continuing down the corridor until finally, he reached the principal's office. Hoping he could go unnoticed, he simply leant against the doorframe, peering through the office window but being unable to see anything of significance at first glance.

Apparently, his hopes were in vain yet again.

"Oh, Elliot!" the other blonde, Ada, and none other than Oz's older sister who had gotten the other senior prefect position, squealed The same, irritating smile donning her lips and she took a step closer to him. "So, why do you think we're here?"

 _They think alike as well…_ Elliot thought, his annoyance explicitly showing as a frown crept onto his face, followed by his more-often-than-not furrowed eyebrows. Wordlessly, he shrugged, running his fingers through his dark-ish blonde, slightly dirty coloured hair as he let out another deep sigh. Sitting in his classroom all day doing nothing except listening to the teacher drone on and on about Shakespeare seemed more preferable than whatever this was for a Friday afternoon – even if Oz was in said class.

After another couple of minutes of silence, their attendance was finally noticed by someone. It wasn't their principal – he was just unobservant altogether – but the deputy head instead. There was a brief sound of a muffled conversation between the two teachers in there, before finally, the door clicked open, and sure enough, the deputy head stepped out, his stoic and nonchalant gaze switching between Ada and Elliot for a few moments. Then, he shut the door behind him, keeping his hand on the door handle and almost waiting for either one of the students to make the first move.

Elliot had always wondered how the current head and the deputy head came to know each other, and get their respective roles. Their deputy head, who was commonly known as Oswald – or, 'Mr Baskerville' (although, admittedly, no one called him that) – was firm, focused, and somewhat strict. He was professional, though; the complete opposite of their principal, Levi. Levi was unprofessional, sarcastic, but somehow, incredibly good at what he did.

The awkward pause lingering amongst them initiated by Oswald continued for another 10 seconds or so, before suddenly, Ada interjected the silence. "U-um, so… what are we doing here?"

Immediately, Oswald's sharp, interrogative gaze landed on Ada, before quietly, he responded, "There's a new student enrolling today. He's on a scholarship. Levi ordered me to introduce you to him."

 _So the rumours were true, huh…_ Elliot through with another roll of the eyes. He couldn't be bothered with this on a Friday afternoon.

"I'll take you in now," Oswald declared, scanning their uniforms with the usual cold eyes before turning his back to them. With his hand on the door handle, he glanced through the small window and then proceeded to push it open, leading Elliot and Ada in behind him.

Sure enough, at Levi's desk was a student; one Elliot had never seen before in his life. The moment they walked in, Levi stopped talking, giving a brief smile in the two students' direction. The boy opposite him froze as well, following Levi's line of vision and turning around.

Then, for a brief second, his and Elliot's gazes met.

Or at least, he presumed that was where he was looking, since his eyes were covered up entirely by a large and thick-lensed pair of glasses. To accompany that, almost half of his shaggy brown, long hair was concealing his eyes, and Elliot couldn't hold back as an unimpressed and clearly disapproving look of disgust crept onto his face. His uniform was hardly smart, and despite it being the uniform of the most prestigious school in the area, he _still_ managed to make it look scruffy somehow.

"Elliot, Ada," Levi spoke up, gesturing for the other to stand before doing the same. "This is Leo. Leo, this is Elliot and Ada, our two senior prefects."

The moment Leo stood up, Elliot couldn't help but observe how small he was compared to himself. However, there was something about his admittedly off-putting aura which told the blonde that he should hold off mocking his height for a while.

It was only when Leo held his hand out to him that he realised he was, in fact, staring.

He couldn't help it. Having been raised in an upper-class family following a line of successful siblings, Elliot had never even _seen_ anyone like this before. His hair was messy, his general appearance was just scruffy, and as he turned towards Ada, there was also a distinct smell of cigarette smoke which clung to him rather noticeably.

But for some reason, as he watched him interact with Ada, he seemed almost… friendly?

Elliot kicked himself internally for his flustered first interaction.

"Sorry, what was your name again?"

That startled him. Frowning, he reminded him, "Oh, sorry. My name is, er, Elliot."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, _Elliot_ ," Leo greeted, stepping aside and turning his focus back to the teachers.

 _He certainly isn't lacking respect, for now at least…_ Elliot thought, but still kept his nose turned up at him.

"Alright, now that we have that sorted," Levi cut into the new-found awkward silence, taking a step back from his desk and pulling one of the drawers open, extracting a pack of YvesSaintLaurent cigarettes along with a lighter. "I'll be taking my leave now. Oswald, I take it you can handle things from here? Someone just needs to take him around and explain basic school rules."

Wordlessly, Oswald nodded, watching Levi proceed straight to the back door of his office and exit. Then, his cold glare landed dead on Elliot.

Elliot almost panicked; he definitely knew how to make someone uncomfortable. "Yes, sir?"

"Take him around, show him where everything is and familiarise him with the rules," Oswald ordered, "Then, bring him to his last lesson."

"Huh?! Why me?" Elliot complained, but the glare he received from Oswald quickly flipped that attitude upside down. Reluctantly, he sighed, rolling his eyes once again before dropping his gaze to Leo. "Oi, follow me."

Leo snickered, picking up his bag and following Elliot out of the room whilst muttering under his breath, "That doesn't seem like the appropriate way for senior prefect to speak to a new student, wouldn't you agree?"

"Tch, shut up," Elliot grunted, turning left and guiding the other down the corridor. But the silence was too off putting, and as he led Leo to the first notable place within the school, he finally decided to just go straight out and say it. And so, the moment they were fully outside, Elliot froze, turning around to face the other and asking interrogatively, "So what's your deal? Where've you even come from?"

Leo shifted for a moment, scratching the back of his head and putting on a façade of cluelessness. He shrugged, answering, "A few miles away? We moved." Then, a sly grin formed at his lips the moment he thought of his next comment. "What, you wanted to know where I live? Heh. That's a bit creepy, don't you think?"

Elliot had no idea why he blushed at that. Annoyedly, he gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

 _Who the hell does he think he is?!_

"This is the most prestigious school in the area, if not the country," Elliot declared, shoving his hands in his pockets as his frown deepened. "What did you pull to get past those entrance exams and get a scholarship?"

"You know, you yourself don't strike me as intelligent enough to get into somewhere like this," Leo retorted, the same mocking smirk creeping back onto his face. "Oh, and just for your information, I got in because I got 100% on all the tests. Do you have anything to say to that?"

Instantly, Elliot's mouth fell open. _Was he serious?!_

Unable to think of an appropriate comeback, the blonde simply sucked up his frustration, carrying on across to the field.

"So this is the field," Elliot presented sulkily, his expression still stuck a sullen, petulant frown. "It's only open in summer, though. Any other time and it's out of bounds, except for P.E., of course."

"Oh. So, do we actually _have_ to do sports?" Leo asked, the sneer to his words somewhat fading.

"H-huh?! Yes, of course!" Elliot scoffed. "What kind of school did you even go to?!"

"One where the smartest students got away with not showing up to Physical Ed," Leo answered nonchalantly, and a few seconds later, the same devious smirk found its way back onto his face. "Although, if this _was_ a privilege, you wouldn't have experienced it yourself."

Elliot froze in front of the other once again, his piercing glare locking on Leo, who seemed fairly unintimidated; much to his dismay. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"Leo. Just Leo," he answered simply, "There's not much else to know about me."

There was a short pause.

"Well, not much else that you need to know."

Suspiciously, Elliot narrowed his eyes at the other. He was already tentative about him; Leo was unlike anyone he'd ever come face to face with in his entire life. He _looked_ like scum, to put it bluntly, but the cold, somewhat _violent_ and biting edge to his words gave Elliot an unshakeable feeling which he just could not explain.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he interrogated.

"I've already said: nothing you need to know," Leo insisted, trying to keep his words level, as promptly, he changed the focus of the conversation. "So, continue with you tour. I'm sure you're bursting to tell me about the all the rules of this place. It certainly has a reputation."

"Hmph, yeah…" Elliot muttered, rotating on his heel and guiding Leo back towards the main building. "Basic rules include being in school by 8:30am, latest. If you're late to school or lessons more than twice a week, detention. You don't do homework, detention. If you don't show up to lessons, that's a day exclusion, unless you had a valid reason. Finally, there's no smoking, drinking or drug use _anywhere_ on school grounds, or around them, for that matter."

"Kids our age can legally drink and smoke," Leo pointed out, despite the fact he knew Elliot wouldn't be able to see the relevance in his question.

"Not in this school they can't," Elliot countered, frowning once again; this kid was even lower than he'd originally thought. "Just don't do them. If I catch you, it's a week of exclusion. Got it?"

"Are you sure you're not a control freak?"

"Huh?!" Elliot yelped, as he felt the anger boil up inside him once again with a side of frustration. "Just… quit talking. Pass me your timetable. I presume Levi has at least given you that much."

"Woah, what happened to trying to set an example for me?" Leo said sarcastically, a mocking edge to his tone present and just about noticeable. But, he still did as he was told, retrieving his timetable from inside his blazer pocket and handing it to Elliot.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Elliot took it, unravelling the already scrunched and folded paper and scanning over it.

 _You must be joking…_

"Great…" he scoffed under his breath, eyebrows furrowing automatically. "Oi. You're in all my classes."

"Oh, so I _didn't_ make it into top sets, huh…" Leo muttered slyly, flicking his gaze to Elliot with a roll of the eyes. "I'm just kidding. Don't get so wound up, _Elliot_."

 _He's taking the piss now,_ the blonde deadpanned mentally, his self-composure teetering on the edge by now. But he still bit down any comments resting on his tongue, instead reluctantly continuing with the tour. "This is the main building. For the sixth form, at least. All of your classes will be around here."

"I see…" Leo hummed, stopping in his tracks abruptly and gesturing to one of doors on their left, which Elliot had just brushed past barely a second ago. "Is this a bathroom?"

"No. It's an art room," Elliot retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Yes it's bathroom. What of it?"

"Nothing, just testing your intelligence," Leo smirked again, pushing against the door regardless. "I'll be right back."

"Huh?! W-wait-!"

Before Elliot was able to finish his sentence, his yelling was promptly cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. He blinked, before scoffing under his breath and falling back against the wall, kicking his foot up onto the bricks. A couple of minutes later, and Leo still hadn't returned.

There was a brief moment of concern, almost, and Elliot just could not shake the feeling that there was something – something so obvious and yet so secret and well-hidden – that he was missing.

"Hey, Elliot. Shall we continue?"

"Tch, took you long enough…" Elliot muttered under his breath, shaking his head to himself before promptly taking off down the corridor.

It took no more than 20 minutes for Elliot to show the other the rest of the classrooms, eventually going in a circle and ending up back where they started; outside the principal's office.

"Alright, come on," Elliot groaned, almost inaudibly.

"Hm?"

"You're in my classes, remember?"

"Oh, so you're not just going to abandon me?" Leo chuckled, fiddling with his hands for a moment before shoving them into his pockets, following the other.

"Learn some respect, kid," Elliot rolled his eyes. "You'll need it in this place."

Leo let out a childish "hmph", the conversation falling flat and plunging them into total silence for the remainder of the short walk.

As soon as they reached the right classroom, Elliot shot one last brief glance towards Leo, before pushing the door open. Almost instantly, all heads in the class whipped around to the two at the door, glaring accusingly at them as if they're murdered someone.

"Ah, Elliot," Their teacher – Vincent, who, one again, was very rarely addressed as 'Mr Nightray' as he should be – immediately stopped speaking, the hand holding his book falling to his waist as he dragged a hand through his slightly too long, blonde hair. Then, the same, sinister smile tugged at his lips; the one which desperately screamed innocence and yet no one believed that for even a second. "Why don't you introduce the new student to the class?"

Elliot tried so hard _not_ to frown at his teacher. "This is Leo. He's… just transferred here."

Wordlessly, Leo gave the most an almost timid wave, keeping one hand behind his back as he ran a hand through the hair which conveniently fell over his face. He could physically feel their stares, but credits to his thick rimmed glasses, eye contact was (thankfully) not a possibility.

"Leo, please take a seat at the back," their teacher smiled, gesturing to the table isolated in the back corner of the room, next to the bookshelf. Then, his gaze flitted to Elliot. "Elliot, please, take your seat."

Elliot nodded, holding back the scowl which threatened to form on his face as he proceeded to his seat; the seat next to Oz, of all people. Sure enough, the same beaming grin was still bold on Oz's face, even after listening to Vincent rant about Romeo and Juliet for half an hour.

"What page were we on?" Elliot asked quietly, another exhausted and bored sigh accompanying the question, as he pulled the book and began to flick through it.

"Er… Act 2, Scene 6, I think," Oz answered, spinning his pen idly between his two fingers. "So, the rumours were right, huh? What's he like?"

"Tch, don't even ask me…" Elliot grunted, as he retrieved his folder and opened it to the relevant section. And then, despite initially refusing to give Oz any information on the new kid, his need to rant about Leo soon overcame his self-control. "He's arrogant. I can't stand him. He thinks he's the best in the world above _everyone_ else. Or at least, that's how he acts."

"Hehe, sounds familiar…" Oz chuckled, jokingly nudging Elliot's shoulder and promptly receiving an unamused glare. "I'm kidding!" He insisted, the amused grin shifting to an awkward one. "I-I was talking about Alice…"

"Yeah, you better've been."

The sharp yet discreet glance sideways from Vincent and his mismatched eyes soon silenced the two.

"Back to where we were, focus on what Friar Lawrence says to Romeo here. _'These violent delights have violent ends'._ Notice how it appears he treats Romeo exactly like the naïve youth he is. He is warning him; he can tell something will happen, even if everything seems so perfect at first." Vincent continued to explain, his voice dropping along with the book at the next comment. "Well, it's not as if _children_ know anything anyway. The consequences are always a myth to them."

Elliot had always wondered how Vincent got away with some of the things he said as a teacher.

But, he couldn't even bring himself to think about that right now. Instead, he was trying so damn hard to avert his eyes from Leo, but every time he tried, his focus instantly reverted back to the noirette, sat in the corner of the room flipping through the book.

It was mesmerising, in a way, how that arrogant 'student' he'd just spent 20 minutes conversing with could all of a sudden become so isolated from the world, and be totally immersed in whatever book he was reading. His fingers flicked swiftly between the pages, as he continued to ignore everything going on around him. It was _unnatural_ how unfazed he seemed to be by everything.

Elliot could not recall being so belittled by something before now. There was not one single thing he could actually _understand_ about Leo.

But there was definitely something he was missing; it was more irritating than words could convey. It was like an itch in his brain he couldn't scratch.

And Elliot just could not shake that feeling.

 _Never mind, it's… probably just my imagination…_


	3. Chapter 3

_**(It's been over a month but oh well. I promise I won't abandon it, I just had a lot of oneshots to write over Christmas for my priv account. Oh, and I'm setting this based off the UK school system, so students complete 3 or 4 A levels from 16-18. And they're super hard. Like, really hard. Yeah. That's all I have to say. Oh, and Break has glasses in this AU.**_

 _ **Thank you so much to any reviewers + followers! If you can, please take a minute to let me know what you think about the fic if you are reading it. All feedback is greatly appreciated! ^^**_

 _ **Content warnings: mild swearing, smoking**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

After a weekend away from Leo, Elliot still hated him.

Although, it was a strange sort of hate – so much so that 'hate' almost seemed like a strong word. It was the sort of hate where he detested every single possible thing about him that one could possibly notice, and yet at the same time, he was just itching to see him again; to feel that same resent. The list of things which he could comment on was endless.

Having grown up in a rich, privileged, upper-class family with successful siblings and parents with a net profit for their multiple businesses of over 3 million, Elliot had never been exposed to anything. Every part of his education was always at a private academy, and his sixth form, which he currently attended, was no exception. So, it was only natural that meeting someone like Leo was a bit of a shock. He'd thought exactly the same thing when he first met him; the only thing which had changed was how _much_ he'd pondered.

Dare he call it curiosity?

No, he daren't. To even think of that would be an abomination against everything he stood for.

"Elliot!"

 _Not now…_

Much to his dismay, once again, the irritating blonde came prancing over to him, Elliot internally cursing himself for forgetting to go in the back way, like he usually did on Monday mornings. In all his life, he'd never met someone like Oz who actually enjoyed Monday mornings.

Elliot was beginning to suspect that, maybe – just maybe – he'd spent a good deal of his life isolated and even _protected_ from society.

Abruptly, however, he was snapped out of his trance, Oz bouncing up beside him and sending the same bright, beaming smile in his direction.

"What do you want this time?" he groaned, internally rolling his eyes as they passed the school gates.

"Well… I was wondering if you could tell me more about the new student?" Oz asked, his eyes glinting in the sun with such curiosity it made it difficult for Elliot to refuse.

"Fine," Elliot accepted, scanning his ID card against the electronic register and entering the hallway, following the gradually dispersing crowd towards their tutor room. "What do you want to know?"

"Well… what subjects is he taking?" Oz asked.

"Literature, Chemistry, Maths and Latin," Elliot answered nonchalantly, his brow twitching at the thought. "Tch, of _course_ he'd pick the same as me…"

"Aha, maybe it's fate?" Oz teased, snickering under his breath and scratching the back of his head, avoiding Elliot's unimpressed glare. "I remember you said he's arrogant, but that might've just been a bad first impression. So… what else did you notice about him?"

Elliot had to think about that one for a moment, before screwing his face up in blatant disapproval. "He's just… scum. I don't know how he got into a school like this."

"Hehe, you never know…" Oz said, trying his best to fill the awkward silence as they approached the tutor room. "So… are you going to introduce him to us?"

"I doubt it," Elliot groaned, adding under his breath: "I don't even want anything to do with him. He doesn't even know who he's speaking to! He pisses me off. But all the teachers seem to think I should be his personal tour guide."

Another sly, suspecting smirk tugged at Oz's lips, as he followed Elliot's curious gaze to the new student, who was sure enough already sitting in tutor, his nose buried in a book.

Nothing about his appearance had really changed, apart from his bow tie now being crooked and his hair even scruffier somehow. Or, maybe that was just his bias speaking. Either way, Elliot still didn't approve.

"Er, Elliot. Could you please come here?"

Promptly, he was pulled from his trance by his tutor, Mr Lunettes, who taught History. He didn't teach Elliot, since he only studied Literature, Chemistry, Maths, and Latin for his A levels, but he was his form tutor, and was probably the only teacher who insisted on being addressed professionally. Despite this though, everyone did know his name was Reim, but mostly out of respect refrained from calling him that.

As senior prefect, Elliot had to return such professionalism. "Yes sir?"

"Has the headmaster introduced you to the new student yet?" he asked, readjusting his glasses as always – at least he wasn't cleaning them, Elliot noted.

"Yes, last week." Elliot nodded, his tone polite but with a biting edge of disapproval.

"I apologise if this is asking too much, but I know you're in the same classes, so –"

 _Don't say it…_

"- would you mind briefing him further on the timetable and then showing him to his classes?"

Elliot exhaled, trying not to sound too repulsed by the idea; albeit he was failing. "But I already took him around last Friday!"

"Elliot, please do as your superiors tell you," Reim stressed, sitting back down at his desk, which had a decently sized pile of paper stacked up in front of his laptop. Then, he began muttering something under his breath. "That stupid Xerx… making me fill out all his tutee's parent information as well…"

With another irritable sigh, Elliot took that as his cue to leave, sucking up the self-control to not fire up an argument with the other. Then, he slowly approached the table at which Leo was still sitting. He wasn't even sure he had acknowledged him yet, his face still buried in the book, several strands of hair hanging over his eyes.

 _How does he even read through that rat's nest?_

"Oi, Leo."

There was no response.

"Hey! Listen to me!"

"What do you want?" Leo asked. And Elliot couldn't see it, but he could also _feel_ Leo's eyes rolling at his presence.

"I-I was sent to sit here!" Elliot declared, kicking back the chair and sitting down reluctantly. Sulkily, he dropped his bag on the floor beside the chair leg, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head away from the other.

"Stop looking at me then." Leo's tone turned sour. "Can't you see I'm trying to read?"

There was another silence.

Then, Leo's focus finally flitted to Elliot, as he questioned, "When does Period 1 start?"

"8:45," Elliot answered nonchalantly, before leaning over back to his bag and pulling out his book of _Holy Knight Volume 17._ Briefly, he noticed Leo staring at the front cover of the book, as if he wanted to say something.

But, instead, the noirette simply asked, "What about the other lessons?"

"Tch, just pass me your timetable," Elliot ordered, holding a hand out expectantly, in which Leo dropped an already torn piece of paper into. Screwing his face up at it, Elliot slowly unfolded the timetable, being careful not to rip the tattered thing anymore.

He wasn't sure why he was disappointed when he opened up the timetable and saw they'd taken the same subjects, and were consequently in all each other's lessons. Disappointed or not, however, he was still curious as hell; especially since, last Friday, Leo had rather boldly claimed he'd gotten 100% on all the entrance exams.

 _We'll see about that…_ Elliot thought in total disbelief of the other's statement. There was no _way_ this scruffy, arrogant and ill-mannered kid had gotten a scholarship without pulling any strings with the school or doing some kind of dirty work. Not the way he saw it, at least.

"Lessons 1 and 2 are two hours, you'll finish them at 10:45, then have a 15 minute break," Elliot explained, refusing to make eye contact with the other – he wouldn't want to make himself seem welcoming. Because, in case he hadn't made it clear enough, Elliot really didn't like Leo so far. "Then, period 3 and 4 last two hours until one, at which point you'll have a half an hour break before periods 5 and 6, which takes you to half three. Then you go home. There's no leaving the premises at any point. Got it?"

"Perhaps," Leo shrugged. He really didn't seem overly impressed with all the rules Elliot insisted on mindlessly spewing at him. In all honesty, if he weren't at the prestigious school he was currently at, he'd have decked Elliot in the face upon first meeting him. But, common sense suggested otherwise; that probably wouldn't end well, so the best option would've been to ignore him. And so, Leo proceeded to bury his face in his book once again, turning his head away from the other rather pointedly.

Unfortunately, Elliot wasn't really getting the hint.

"Just remember where you are right now, al-"

"Elliot, I'm not interested," Leo cut him off bluntly. "To be frank, I find you quite irritating."

Wordlessly, Elliot flung the timetable back in his direction. _"Tch"-_ ing under his breath, he picked up his own book, glancing across the room at Oz – for once, he _wanted_ to be near the blonde, if it meant trading seats and getting away from Leo.

Although, something notable was different with Leo. Where were all the retort-y centred comebacks which really _did_ set Elliot on edge? Where were the biting remarks accompanied by sly smirks?

Maybe he just didn't like Monday mornings, just like himself.

 _No, no! Do not think that we're similar!_ Elliot scolded himself mentally. There was no _way_ they could possibly have _anything_ in common.

Silence lingered between the two like there was no one even there, until eventually, the bell rang, echoing down the corridor. That signal then prompted the screeching of chairs being dragged against the floor, and Elliot joined in with that choir of noise when he stood up himself, folding both arms over his chest and waiting rather impatiently for Leo to pack up and follow him. He was only doing as he was told; he didn't _want_ to wait for the other.

"Let's go," Elliot grunted once Leo had finished packing up, which felt like an excruciating amount of time. _He's definitely taking the piss now._

"Oh, so you're escorting me to my first class?" Leo snickered, his bangs falling over his face to partially conceal the slight smirk stretching at his lips.

"Huh-?! O-of course not!" Elliot yelped. "I-I mean... I'm _taking_ you there because I have to!"

"Elliot is really a kind person," Leo commented to himself, the sarcasm blunt as usual as he followed Elliot down the corridor, still chuckling away to himself.

Rolling his eyes, Elliot was then quick to realise his irritable demeaner had had a 180 flip in the space of 20 seconds; he was now the same snarky and – to put it frankly – arrogant _'student'_ he remembered from last Friday. Perhaps he just didn't like anyone getting between himself and his books; Elliot made a mental note not to disturb him whilst reading.

Thankfully, their first classroom was only up a couple of flights of stairs, and within a minute, they had arrived.

And the moment they entered the vicinity, noting that they were the first there, their teacher saw them.

Break wasn't your average teacher – in any way at all. To begin with, he was even less professional than Levi, constantly being seen with a lollipop in his mouth. To accompany this, his hair always seemed to cover his left eye, regardless of whether it was done up at the back or not – this detail alternated depending on the day. No one ever dared to ask about it, though; the black framed glasses were enough of a giveaway that his eyesight wasn't too brilliant. As for clothes, they barely passed as formal, a white untucked and unbuttoned at the top shirt hanging over the hem of his slightly-too-tight black suit pants. He also donned a violet coloured blazer, along with a black tie knotted rather messily and clinging to his collar.

But, putting aside all of that, he was a very, _very_ skilled Chemistry teacher, and Elliot would be lying if he said he didn't look up to him in a way.

"Ah, Elliot. Happy Monday~" Break greeted, swinging back on the stall he was currently perched on at his desk. His laptop was set aside and abandoned, in favour of a considerably small stack of test papers he was marking, presumably. Then, his crimson eye flitted to the boy beside him, as he pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and pointed it at him. "And you are?"

"This is Leo," Elliot cut in.

"Elliot really is nice," Leo snickered once again, only infuriating Elliot further. "But for future references, I can speak for myself, you know."

Apparently, Break found it quite amusing as well. "So, were you tasked with taking him around then, hm?"

"Tch. Yeah…" Elliot answered.

"Well then," Break grinned, "It's good to meet you, Leo. You can call me Break. Just Break."

As courteously as he could do, Leo nodded. Then, Elliot rotated on his heal, taking his seat at the desk on the far-right side of the room, before dropping his bag down onto the table with an exaggerated sigh.

"Ah, Elliot?" Break grabbed his attention, eyeing him hintingly as a sly grin tugged at his lips once again. "Move along one seat. Leo, you can sit next to Elliot."

"But-!"

"No buts, Elliot," Break interjected, as he pointed at the empty seat beside him and glanced at Leo. "Sit~"

Wordlessly, Leo did as he was told, proceeding to the seat next to Elliot and sitting down.

"Don't you have anything to get out? Like equipment?" Elliot scoffed, pulling out his calculator, notebook and pencil case. Leo simply shook his head in response, pulling only a pen out of his blazer pocket and placing it pointedly on the desk in front of him. "Tch, of course…"

A few minutes of awkward silence later, and everyone had arrived to the class, the room far from full with only about 15 students present.

"Now," Break clapped as he stood up. "I have your tests back. Apologies for them being late, Reim didn't mark them for me, so I had to do them myself. So, aha, don't thank Mr Lunettes this time for me."

Elliot laughed internally; he couldn't actually remember the last time Break personally marked any of their tests. Some of the teachers at their school were certainly questionable, that was for sure.

The class trapped in silence, Break began handing out the test papers, the slight heels of his boots clicking against the floor. Eventually, Elliot's paper came, being slid onto the table in front of him by Break, who simply glanced at him briefly before continuing as he was doing. Then, a few seconds later, he returned once again with the last paper, placing it on the desk in front of Leo.

"Do as much of this as you can," Break instructed, laying a finger on the top of the paper and leaning over the table. "Never mind if you get stuck on any of it. I'm sure your new best friend Elliot will help you~"

"Tch, s-shut up," Elliot grunted.

"Ah, that's no way to talk to your superiors~" Break pouted. Rotating on his heel, he retreated back to the smartboard, pulling up the mark scheme. "Say, you guys could've done better. But we have time to improve, so don't fret it. I mean, I'm not saying you did badly, but I'm not saying you did well, either. Let's just hope I'm feeling nice enough not to tell your parents, eh?"

Elliot wanted to rip his paper in half when he saw his grade.

It wasn't necessarily a _bad_ grade. It just wasn't want he wanted, or what he'd studied for. And it was certainly not as well as he could've done.

"Oh, so you got a B?"

 _That damn-!_

"Leo!" Elliot couldn't help but yell in a whisper, turning his gaze away momentarily. "I-It's not bad!"

"I see. You can tell yourself that."

"It's not though!" Elliot tried to defend himself. "B-Besides… it was a hard paper."

"You can think that, if you want," Leo said ambiguously, reading through the first questions and scribbling down the answers the moment they came into his head.

Elliot was amazed.

If you looked past the awful, almost illegible handwriting, the answers written down were almost word-for-word identical to the mark scheme.

"Is there something you wanted to say?" Leo asked, flicking the page and scanning over the questions briefly. He was unfazed by all of it – even the top level questions – spinning his pen idly in his right hand.

 _Damn it, was I staring?_ "N-No…"

Leo didn't even hesitate for a moment when he returned his focus back to the paper, his hand gliding naturally across the paper as if he didn't even have to think about it. It appeared as though he _wasn't_ thinking about it, hands down. It was the type of rare, natural intelligence that you hear of, but never actually believe exists.

Maybe he wasn't as bad as Elliot had thought after all.

* * *

Perhaps he had just been naïve.

It was now quarter to one, the two having gotten through Chemistry without murdering each other yet. Granted, Leo's sly comments definitely hadn't been toned down, and Elliot still wasn't quite used to them, considering he had yet to think of an appropriate comeback for a single one of them. But, it hadn't been too bad, he had to admit.

Of course, when break came around, Leo had disappeared almost instantly, leaving Elliot with no other choice than to seek out the company of Oz, who was, as expected, bursting with more questions about the new student, as if he expected Elliot to just magically know everything about him.

Then, 15 minutes later, they were back sitting next to each other, because their maths teacher – Gilbert, who was known quite well as Vincent's brother – decided it would be a great idea to put the two next to each other. Obviously, he had been oblivious to the fact they clashed. Or, maybe Elliot just wasn't making it clear enough.

It took about an hour of the lesson for Leo to turn sour once again, just like he'd been when Elliot first made the grave mistake of interrupting his reading. His mood seemed so erratic, and his personality really was quite equivocal; Elliot could barely keep up with it. Although, after several refused questions, he eventually learnt not to ask anything. Not about the work, nor himself. Silence seemed favourable, but that was more awkward than trying to make conversation.

There was only another 20 minutes of the lesson left now, Gilbert having given them a work booklet and leaving them to it. In some ways, that was a good thing, since Leo was even more unfriendly than usual and more or less blanked their teacher whenever he tried to speak to him.

However, given the fact that Elliot was really struggling on the last couple of A* level questions, not being able to say anything was really starting to show its downsides. Leo wasn't even doing anything anymore. No, instead, he sat kicked back against the chair, spinning his pen in his hand, clearly bored, and gazing out of the window.

Hand scrunched up in his hair, he cocked an eyebrow in confusion, his pen floating over the paper in thought but never touching it.

"If you're stuck on the second to last question, the answer is _a_ equals a half."

Elliot blinked, dumbfounded. "… huh?"

Dropping his pen back onto the desk, Leo sat up, wordlessly picking up the paper and flipping to the last page. He let out a small sigh, almost as if to say _'I can't believe I'm doing this, how stupid are you?'_ , and then tossed the paper at Elliot, before picking up the pen once again and slumping back in the chair, watching Elliot whilst chewing on his lower lip discreetly.

"How did you…?" Elliot wasn't even able to finish his sentence, still in shock that the other had done it so easily. "B-But… this is… _how_?!"

"Just take the first part out, factorise it, and then just follow on as you would," Leo explained briefly. "I'm not spoon feeding you the answers."

"O-Ok…" Elliot stuttered, still baffled. "Um, thank you?"

Leo didn't bother responding, simply returning his attention to the window as the fiddled with the pen.

Elliot, on the other hand, was still completely and utterly flabbergasted; he'd now personally learnt _why_ people always say "never judge a book by its cover". It had also become so clear how he'd gotten into this school: of _course_ he'd aced the entrance exams with that brain. How could he not?

There was a few more minutes of silence between the two, Leo seemingly zoned out as Elliot continuing wracking his brain for the answers. Eventually, he got there, and was about to move onto the dreaded last question when Leo decided to speak up again.

"How long until this lesson ends?" he asked, and no matter how hard he tried to read his tone, Elliot couldn't tell whether he was bored, irritated, or all of the above.

"Er," Elliot glanced up at the clock behind them. "About 10 minutes. Why?"

"Finally," Leo sighed, checking the teacher wasn't looking before slyly reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer. A second later, he pulled out a bag of loose tobacco and a single sheet of rolling paper.

Elliot's mouth visibly dropped open.

"W-what are you…?" His words tripped over his tongue. "… _huh_?!"

"Shh," Leo hushed, tearing apart the tobacco and lining it up along the paper.

"Y-you… you can't smoke on the school premises!" Elliot yelped, keeping his voice low as Leo had instructed, though.

"I can, and I will," Leo retorted, as he rolled the cigarette up once it was filled before fishing a loose filter out from his inside blazer pocket.

"B-but… why do you even…?" Elliot asked; he was back to square one again of being clueless. It was no surprise, of course – the stench of cigarette smoke clung to him. But for some reason, he'd never really thought about it. Clearly, he was just oblivious, and that realisation had slapped him in the face by now.

"Are you really that surprised that I smoke?" Leo muttered, checking that Gilbert wasn't looking before bringing the cigarette up to his mouth and sliding his tongue along the adhesive strip, bringing it back under the table to finish rolling it.

That question got Elliot. For some reason, he was overcome with this strange feeling of annoyance. It was unexplainable, but he hated the idea of Leo smoking. Maybe it was his naivety on the subject matter; the closest he'd ever seen to smoking was his father's highly valuable Cuban cigars that he was told were worth more than his life. "I guess not, but… why?"

Leo shrugged, spinning the cigarette around between two fingers momentarily, and then pocketing it shortly after. Wordlessly, he glanced up at the clock once again, finding to his relief that they only had another 5 or so minutes left.

"Well… don't you know how much it's killing you?! Or do you just… not _care_?"

"I'm not stupid, Elliot," Leo shot back bitterly, leaning an elbow on the desk. "I just don't want to quit for the time being. But, you can spare me the lecture about how I'm going to die horribly of lung cancer and throat cancer and heart failure and every atrocious consequence of smoking for another time." He huffed quietly. "Preferably when it hasn't been 5 hours since my last smoke, unless you want to get punched, that is."

"Uh…" Elliot stuttered. "H-how much do you even smoke anyway?"

He had no clue why he even asked that, as he mentally smacked himself a mere second later for allowing his goddamn curiosity for the other to win over his sense. But, the contrast between himself and Leo was astonishing, to say the least; it should've been no surprise his curiosity got the better of him.

Leo paused for a moment, before answering nonchalantly, "About 12 a day? I don't count, but it's not that many."

"But that's like… every 2 hours!"

"Which is nothing in comparison to most people," Leo countered, somewhat defensively, but he really wasn't in the mood to argue with Elliot right now; not when his hand was practically twitching towards the cigarette hidden away safely in his pocket.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Now, if you would, Mr _Senior Prefect,_ " Leo gave the other a teasing smirk. "Do the honour of not telling. Unless you want me to beat someone up in last period."

"Ha! You, _violent_?" Elliot scoffed.

The glare he received from Leo – or at least the glare he _presumed_ he received from Leo, as he slowly but threateningly turned his head towards him – told him that his comment was a bad move.

"Believe what you will, but I used to get into a lot of fights at the old school," Leo said casually, and Elliot genuinely couldn't decipher whether he was proud or ashamed with himself, or somewhere in the middle. "My teachers described me as 'unsettled' and 'defiant'."

 _Why am I not surprised to hear that much…?_ Elliot asked himself rhetorically. His eyebrow twitched. "Hang on then… how the hell did you get into _this_ school with _that_ attitude?!"

Waving his question paper from the lesson in Elliot's face laughingly, Leo mocked, "Need I remind you of my intelligence?"

Elliot silence instantly. A moment later, the bell rang, signalling the start of lunch. And, when Gilbert dismissed the class, Leo immediately took off, no doubt searching for a place of privacy and specifically away from Elliot.

Perhaps he was better off avoiding the other where possible.

* * *

Lunch finished a mere half an hour later, Elliot once again trudging back to his final lesson, Oz on his tail as usual. Thankfully, he was fairly certain Vincent wouldn't move him away from Oz, the two being a fairly unusual but good pair.

Obviously, he'd been wrong.

"Ah, Elliot," the blonde teacher called the moment his foot passed the threshold. Giving the same smile to lure Elliot into doing what he wanted, Vincent continued. "I've been speaking to our new student. Sit next to him, please?"

Elliot sighed internally. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," Vincent answered instantly, pointing at the spare seat beside Leo at the back of the classroom. And, sure enough, the noirette was already there, nose buried in a book like this morning.

Cautiously – remembering that interrupting the other was a risky and dangerous move – Elliot approached him, dumping his bag on the floor and taking his seat. Bag still on the floor, he fished out his copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ , laying it on the desk and then retrieving his notes.

Leo didn't move a single muscle, and Elliot wasn't even sure whether he'd registered his presence or not.

"Alright, turn to Act 3, Scene 4. And get your homework out, I'll be checking that momentarily. If you haven't done it," Vincent paused, the cynical smile returning to his lips. "I hope you know what to expect."

From beside him, Leo did exactly that, his eyes still locked on the book as he tore the paper from his bag. The paper of the essay was ripped and torn, but Elliot could tell with only one glance that the quality of the work was nothing short of outstanding.

But, for now, he decided it was better off leaving him undisturbed. And if he had no choice but to spend every lesson with him?

Well then, he might as well _try_ getting along with the other.


	4. Chapter 4

_**(A/Ns: All i can say is that I really do apologise for taking so long to update. The good news is this chapter has a ton of character/relationship development and is nearly 5,000 words. I promise not to abandon it, and I'm sorry if updates take longer than a month.**_

 _ **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed so far! It means a lot, and would also make me extremely happy if you continued to review!**_

 _ **Content warnings: swearing, underage smoking**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

There were a few things that Elliot had learnt about Leo in the two days that he'd known him.

Number one was that you should not, under any circumstances, get in between Leo and his books. This was totally undebatable. Even if the entire school was on fire, and the building was crumbling above them, you couldn't interrupt his reading. No, in the event of a total catastrophe, instead you'd have to stand there beside him, and wait patiently for him to glance up and finish reading that chapter before casually pointing out that _the entire fucking building was on fire._ That's how Elliot saw it at least.

The second point was that you shouldn't get between Leo and his cigarettes. This was something Elliot had only learnt yesterday, but from the irritability observed after only 5 hours without smoking, he knew this for certain. Maybe 5 hours was a long time for smokers to go without a cigarette – he wouldn't know. Why _would_ he know that? Was that a _normal_ thing for people to know? Regardless, though, whenever he was around him, he really did try to numb himself to the faint but noticeable smell of cigarette smoke and forget this fact. Because, needless to say, Elliot was rather naïve to the whole concept of addiction.

 _Enough with the negatives,_ he thought to himself, as he mentally ran through the list. That led nicely onto the third thing: he was really, _really_ smart. Incomprehensibly smart, to be accurate. Even a day later, Elliot still couldn't fathom it. No matter how hard he tried, based on everything he'd learnt, he just could not picture Leo sitting at a desk with a textbook, making brightly coloured, disgustingly fluorescent revision notes – as they'd been taught to do. That meant it _had_ to be natural, which just did not make sense in Elliot's mind.

It also didn't sit well with the fourth and final thing he'd learnt: Leo was totally ignorant, and arrogant, to any rules set aside for him. Sure, he did homework, and showed up to lessons mostly on time. But that didn't outweigh the fact that he managed to violate almost every part of the uniform code with how he presented himself in only a day and a bit. Not to mention his blatant disregard to the clear no smoking policy which was _supposed_ to be followed by _all_ students. Clearly not him, he must've thought.

Another prime example of this blatant disobedience was the fact that he seemed to believe that he was under no obligation to show up to their single period of sports – despite the fact it was part of their compulsory curriculum – just because he didn't fancy it. Once again, this was only how Elliot saw it, but his opinion didn't change as he carried himself into Maths and instantly spotted the noirette, seated oh-so-innocently in the seat next to the window.

As if ingrained in him as a reflex response by now, Elliot's eyebrow twitched in frustration. Reluctantly, he stormed over to the desk at the back, trying to keep his composure mostly intact when he sat down as calmly as possible in the seat next to Leo. Then, after wordlessly retrieving his equipment and laying it out on the desk in front of him, he finally worked up the courage to ask: "Where were you in Physical Ed.?"

"Hm. I didn't feel like going," Leo answered casually, his _blatant disobedience_ – as Elliot called it – clearly showing. No, if anything, given the blunt disregard suggested by his intonation, it transcended Elliot's expectations; defiance was an _understatement._

"You won't get away with that forever," Elliot mumbled, fighting back the urge to delve into another lecture on the rules. If Leo wanted to ignore them, then so be it. And Elliot wasn't so stupid as to waste his breath convincing him otherwise. Contemptuously, he added under his breath: "Just like the smoking on school premises…"

"It's funny you say that, really," Leo chuckled, somewhat mockingly. "I didn't get caught yesterday."

"Hmph."

"Or 5 minutes ago."

"Yeah, well one day you'll- wait _what_?!" Elliot hissed, "Tch, does that mean you won't be an irritable brat for the last half of the lesson?"

"Hm, I'll think about it," Leo said sarcastically; teasingly, almost, as the snarky grin crept back onto his face. "So, you missed me last period, huh?"

"No," Elliot replied, furrowing his brows as he attempted to distract himself by scribbling the date down in his book. "I just wondered where you were, breaking all the rules."

"If you _must_ know, I was on the roof," Leo answered, "Heh. You sure like authority for someone who'll need to stand on his own two feet eventually."

"Hey! I can do things for myself just fine!" Elliot retorted, overly defensively. "Just get on with the work and you might redeem yourself."

Leo smirked again, relishing in the thought that his supposedly recalcitrant attitude had truly provoked the other. Shaking his head, he muttered idly to himself, "I wouldn't be speaking if _you_ didn't initiate the conversations…"

Elliot's pen dropped the moment Gilbert stood up and began speaking.

 _Crap… I do start the conversations, don't I?_

* * *

"Hey! Elliot!"

 _Ugh. One of these days I'm going to slap that kid._

Once Elliot had finished groaning internally, he cranked his neck up, only to find the excitable blonde had bounced up beside him already. And, to no surprise, he donned the same goofy smile as always. _Some people never change…_ Elliot added mentally.

"Yes?" he answered with a roll of the eyes.

"Where are you going now?" Oz asked, fiddling with the straps of his satchel.

"Canteen, like I always do," Elliot answered, "Duh. Why?"

"Well… I was wondering if you'd introduce me to, urmm…" Oz laughed nervously, "His name was… er-"

"Leo," Elliot deadpanned, "His name is Leo."

"Right! Well… can I meet him this lunch?" Oz requested, "Ooh! You could introduce him to all of us!"

"He's not an exhibit or anything worth seeing, Jesus." Another eye roll. "Let's just… go."

"Alright."

Under Elliot's request, the two continued walking to the canteen in total silence. The moment they arrived, Oz instantly began waving, and it didn't take Elliot long to follow his line of vision to the table already occupied by their other friends.

Elliot used the term 'friends' loosely.

There weren't many of them, at that, and it was almost entirely girls – no, it _was_ entirely girls. The first of them, with dyed pink hair falling just past her shoulders and bouncing into small, heat-induced curls, was called Lottie. Her and Elliot weren't always friends. In fact, when they were 13, they were quite the opposite. But that was back in the days of immaturity, and Elliot liked to tell himself he'd grown up a _lot_ in 3 years. She was friendly enough; sneaky, of course.

The second of them was Lily. She was small, chirpy and really quite childish. Some would call it quirky, some would call it irritating. Regardless, though, Elliot firmly believed that she was only there because Lottie's premature maternal instincts had kicked in when she was getting bullied last year.

The third girl usually there was Alice; however, most days, Elliot didn't see her before halfway through lunch, given that she appeared to have a natural aptitude (calling it a talent would be ludicrous) for getting detentions. And today was, to no surprise, not one of those rare exceptions.

The only other girl noticeably there most days was Ada – Oz's sister – which Elliot wasn't particularly fond of, especially since she was in the year above and _obviously_ had better things to be doing with her time other than hanging with sixth form first years.

"Elliot~" Lottie greeted, a sharp edge to her teasing words.

"Tch, what?" he responded bitterly as he took his seat at their table beside Oz.

"Who were you with yesterday morning?" she interrogated, a somewhat sadistic smirk stretching across her lips. "I had Law next to your Chemistry lab. You were meant to walk there with me, you know~"

Elliot's mouth dropped open to respond, but before he could get out a word, Oz decided to take it upon himself to answer for him.

"Elliot made a new friend!"

"Ah, congratulations!" Lottie said patronisingly, "A friend? Or perhaps more~?"

"What-?!" Elliot tried to yelp in his defence.

"Ooh! I see it!" Oz mused, beaming as always. "Ahhh! Elliot has a crush! Elliot has a crush!"

Face now a deep red – much against his will – Elliot grit his teeth, clenching his fists and attempting to swallow down the lump in his throat and the godforsaken blush spread across his face. His mind was screaming a very conclusive _no_ , but his body really didn't appear to be in tune with that.

"So~" Lottie sang. "What's her name then? Tell your big sister Lottie~"

"Okay so first of all!" Elliot yelled defensively, glaring fiercely at Oz for a moment through a burning sidelong glance. " _His_ name is _Leo_ , and _he_ is a _he_!" He was still blushing. "And _I_ am not _gay_!"

"Okay, okay," Oz laughed nervously, defensively holding his hands up and leaning backwards. "You don't have a crush on him! But please introduce him to us!"

"If it'll get you off my case, then fine!" Elliot gave up, throwing his hands down onto the table and standing up yet again. He didn't really want to go and track down the noirette, although with the blush still stuck on his face and extremely awkward, overly defensive outburst he'd just delivered, leaving the group for a moment didn't seem like such a bad idea.

All the way out of the canteen, across the playground and to the field, the same thoughts and regrets stuck at the front of Elliot's mind. Truly, he wanted to slap himself for getting so goddamn self-protective over it. They were joking, weren't they?

That's what he wanted to believe.

Most likely a good thing, only a few moments later, Elliot was abruptly snapped from his thoughts when the pungent smell of cigarette smoke invaded his senses, and it was only then that he noticed he'd been heading to the field.

Subsequently, he spotted _him_ , standing as deceivingly innocent as you possibly could whilst hiding behind a tree with a plume of smoke rising from between your fingers.

Elliot scoffed. "Tch, I thought I'd find you here."

Leo, showing no sign of surprise, simply smirked as usual, turning around to the other and dragging teasingly on the cigarette in his right hand. "Oh, Elliot. Fancy seeing you here."

"Hmph." Elliot pouted sulkily, unable to think of a suitable comeback, much to his dismay. "My, er, my friends wanted to meet you."

"Hm, really?" Leo challenged, absentmindedly flicking the excess ash off the end of the cigarette onto the grass and taking another drag. Exhaling the smoke away from Elliot and dropping the hand holding the cigarette to his side, he continued. "Why, exactly?"

"Tch, I don't know!" Elliot yelled, and was soon left questioningly why he'd reacted so rashly once again. His face darkening slightly – against his will – his frown deepened automatically, as he added: "They… they think I have a _thing_ for you…"

"Ah, I see…" The noirette pondered, inhaling from the cigarette in thought and releasing the smoke through pursed lips, staring rather intently down at the grass. "Mhm. And do you?"

"What?! _No!"_ Elliot retorted with such disgust and disdain. "I-I'm not gay!" he insisted. Rolling his eyes, he muttered almost inaudibly, "Why? A-Are you?"

"Hm, maybe. Or maybe not," Leo shrugged, the smirk finding its way back onto his face as usual, as he took the last drag from the cigarette before snuffing it out on the bark of the tree and tossing the butt aside onto the grass somewhere. "Heh, why is it that you need to know the answer to that?"

Elliot huffed, trying to hold back any blush beginning to develop on his face again. "Let's just go. If they meet you, they get off my case. So, are you coming?"

Leo snickered. "If I must."

"Good," the other murmured under his breath with a sigh, rotating on his heel and storming off in the other direction towards the canteen.

A few moments later, once they'd left the field and Elliot could finally breath again, Leo piped up. "Can we stop off at the bathroom first?"

Elliot considered it for a moment; arriving late to his friends didn't seem like too bad of an idea. "Alright, fine. Go this way."

Wordlessly, the two proceeded to the classroom block adjacent to the canteen. Very few students were around at this time – the sixth form and secondary school were on different sites, and the students of the sixth were either in the canteen or the library studying. From the halls to the notice board to the aura of each room, everything just screamed academic; Elliot wasn't messing around when he stressed about respect and authority in this environment.

"I'll… wait outside," Elliot muttered, kicking one foot back against the wall and leaning against it rather precariously. Shoving both hands in his pocket, he emphasised once again: "I'm waiting!"

Leo threw both arms up in a sarcastic surrender. "My bad, my bad. Of course you wouldn't want to be seen with the poor kid, right?"

"T-That wasn't what I-!" Elliot tried, but before he could finish his sentence, the door slammed shut on his words. A pang of guilt coursed through him briefly. He hadn't _said_ it, but he probably looked like he sure as hell thought it. It wasn't totally _untrue_ ; however, it genuinely wasn't his intent.

Though, he still felt guilty for it somehow.

 _Tch, that brat…_ Elliot thought dismissively.

But never before had he experienced such strong emotions around someone else. Not to Oz (except hate, maybe), not to Alice, not to Lottie. Not even to his family. To no one. Feeling strongly and deeply about someone on several different levels was a totally foreign concept to him.

Everything about Leo was a totally foreign concept to Elliot. Perhaps that why he couldn't seem to leave him alone.

"Elliot? I'm done."

Elliot jumped, snapping from his daze and pushing himself off the wall. The same unimpressed façade kicking into action, he continued leading Leo to the canteen, unnoticeably drawing in a deep breath to prepare himself once they arrived. And, seeing no way of getting out of whatever reaction his _'friends'_ would give, Elliot grudgingly nudged the door open.

The silence lingering between the two dragged on until they reached the table in the corner of the room, Elliot sighing a breath of relief internally at the fact Alice had yet to arrive and wreak havoc like she did best.

"Ooh, Elliot," Lottie hummed, winking discreetly at Oz. _Not discreet enough…_ Elliot noted mentally, at that. "Is this your new friend then~?"

"I think _'friend'_ is pushing it…" he muttered grumpily, "Guys, this is Leo. Leo, this is Oz, Lottie, and Lily. You've met Ada, and you'll be lucky if you _don't_ meet Alice."

Oz clambered out of his seat once Elliot had finished speaking, holding a hand out to Leo expectantly and sending the same, warm smile his way. "Hey, Leo. I'm Oz. It's real nice to finally meet you after, er… everything Elliot has told us!"

"Oi, shorty," Elliot sneered, "Watch it."

In response, but nonverbally, Leo nodded, returning the hand gesturing and a weak smile to accompany it.

Then, Oz lowered his voice, leaning slightly closer to Leo and whispering: "Ah, trust me, whilst Elliot may seem hostile and cold at first, he's actually a really nice guy. It just takes a bit of time. So, ah… please be patient with him."

"Mhm, I'm counting on it," Leo smiled slightly, "Elliot does seem confusing, though."

"Hey! Watch what you're sayin'!" Elliot warned, snarling under his breath. "Tch, _shorty_."

"Call me short again and I'll punch you," Leo threatened as he turned around to Elliot briefly, his tone teetering on the line distinguishing between aggressive and joking.

"See, they get along great~" Lottie chuckled, waving her fork in the air pointedly.

Elliot couldn't help but snicker under his breath as well. _Especially_ when Leo appeared to smile – only fleetingly – as well.

It was a feeling of comfort, perhaps.

 _Hold on a moment…_

* * *

The feeling was indescribable, and Elliot had thought about nothing but that for the last 24 hours. Every time his mother, his father, his sister; every time _anyone_ spoke to him, it seemed totally _irrelevant_ in his mind.

Comfort wasn't the right word. Sure, it may have been what came to mind in the spur of the moment. But that wasn't it. No, it was more complex; much deeper than that. It was a paramount sensation of compassion, almost, albeit with more enjoyment. Affection seemed too sappy, and Elliot really did not like the idea of actually _liking_ the noirette – let alone feeling _affection_ towards him.

However, one thing he had to note was that, the moment he arrived at sport the next morning on Wednesday to find Leo absent once again, the noticeable loneliness was the first thing he observed. The hour study period following that was also strikingly quiet, and calm. And he hated to admit that he didn't exactly prefer it like that.

He preferred it when Leo was there, challenging him, pushing all his buttons, and just downright winding him up whether he intended to or not.

 _No no no no no, this is not right._

"Elliot? You're spacing out again."

Leo's voice quickly snapped him out of his trance, dragging him back into reality.

"Right… sorry," Elliot apologised sheepishly, his gaze still fixed on the adjacent wall in fear of looking at Leo and losing control of his train of thought. "Er, why weren't you in sport?"

"Same reason as yesterday," Leo answered, spinning his pen nonchalantly whilst staring down at the work, occasionally glancing up at the clock. "I'm really not cut out for sport."

"Tch, well one day you'll get caught bunking," Elliot pointed out sulkily. Chewing the end of his pen, he returned his attention to the practice questions Break had flung at them 15 minutes or so. Admittedly, Elliot _could_ have finished them by now, but instead had spent a majority of the lesson daydreaming, too imprisoned by his own thoughts to observe his surroundings. Considering he _had_ been zoned out for the past hour, Elliot felt he deserved some sort of acknowledgement for making up most of the answers.

Up until now, at least.

He didn't _want_ to ask for help, knowing full well that Break would incessantly tease him about it for the next week, and almost certainly tell Oz, who seemed to be all buddy-buddy with the teachers. Ruling out that option, unfortunately, only left Leo, who had, sure enough, completed the work already; subsequently, he was left sitting with one elbow on the desk staring at the window and the holding the pen up to his teeth – as he usually did.

Mumbling something incoherent under his breath, Elliot eventually pulled out his pencil, scribbling something illegible down on the diagram.

"You've put the amide in the wrong place," Leo said, seemingly bored but hiding a smug, mocking edge behind his words; it was inherently obvious that correcting people (or maybe just Elliot) was something he got a kick out of, to say the least.

Shortly after pointing out his mistake, Leo picked up on the totally clueless expression stretched across Elliot's face almost instantly, shaking his head with an amused sigh and leaning over to pluck the pen from his grip. The pen now in his hand, the noirette scribbled out Elliot's earlier attempt at answering the question and rewrote it in the correct place in his own indecipherable handwriting.

Wordlessly, Elliot blinked, before snapping back into reality and picking up the pen which had just been dropped next to his paper and flicking over the page. There was less than 10 minutes left of the lesson, but that didn't mean he wasn't determined to finish this. Alone, that was; _without_ any assistance.

"Stop tapping your foot," Elliot snapped at the other a moment later, trying to revert his focus back to the work but only discovering more distractions.

"Hm?" Leo halted his foot, rolling his eyes unnoticeably behind the thick lenses of his glasses. "Oh."

Elliot shifted, turning his head down again. At least the distraction was gone, Leo instead now slumped forward on the table, knocking the other foot against the leg of the stall; fidgeting indefatigably with his pen. Then, as he sat up again, eyes flitting to the clock, whatever idiosyncrasies which Elliot had been subliminally observing suddenly made sense, as he dug through his blazer pocket and – exactly as he'd done yesterday towards the end of fourth period – pulled out the packet of loose tobacco.

Unwilling to beleaguer him right now, Elliot only shot a weak, sidelong glance at him, warning under his breath: "I wouldn't do that in here. Break watches us like hawks."

Leo didn't bother to glance up from the cigarette he was currently rolling when he replied, "I think I'm safe. I just think you're being paranoid."

"Tch," Elliot scoffed. " _I'm_ just waiting for the day you get caught, and I get to say _'I told you so'_."

"You keep waiting then," Leo smiled bitterly at the other, swiftly slipping the cigarette paper along his tongue to seal it, the snarky grin returning to his lips; Elliot braced himself for the most likely inappropriate comment to follow. "Besides, this teacher of ours seems almost as unobservant as that headteacher."

"Hey!" Elliot yelped in Break's defence – thankfully, their teacher hadn't heard the comment. Or at least, if he had, he showed no signs of offense, or acknowledgement. "I know Break might not be your _average_ teacher b-but… he's a really great Chemistry teacher, and… just a nice person!"

"To the teacher's pet, maybe," Leo countered, "You seem obsessed with him."

"Shut your trap, idiot," Elliot grumbled. Pinching his eyebrows together, he decided not to exacerbate the noirette's temper, pinning his attention back to the work.

But, unfortunately, right before the solution to the next question was able to make its way to his memory, the bell rang, serving as a cue for the usual hurried scratching of chairs against the linoleum floor.

Before any of them could leave, however, Break stood up himself, turning to face the board; the pen in his left hand. "Don't forget the homework sheet due tomorrow. You've had since last week, I'm not taking any excuses~" Following that was a derisive chuckle at the mutters of students confiding in each other's incompetence – so he saw it. "Oh, and Leo? Mind staying behind for a moment for me? The rest of you can go. Don't do anything stupid~"

Shrugging at Leo, Elliot mentally debated over whether to wait behind. He didn't want to look like he was lingering pointlessly, but at the same time, Leo's occasional glances as if to check he was still there implied he expected him to wait.

Unfortunately, before he could come to a final decision, Break noticed his presence. "Ah, Elliot. Are you waiting behind?"

"Uh, y-yeah…" Elliot answered unsurely, lingering by the table at which Leo stood at, as their teacher rummaged around in one of the draws before eventually finding what he was looking for.

Dumping the text book on the desk in front of Leo, Break leaned over the mass pile of paperwork which had built up on his desk over time, flicking through the glossed pages as he adjusted his glasses slightly. "So, tell me, Leo. How much of this did they teach you at your previous school?"

With a bored sigh, Leo took over the task of page flicking, briefly scanning over the words but with no real effort or care. A few seconds later – about half way through the innumerable chunk of pages he'd just skipped – Leo stopped, pointing to the content marker in the top left corner. "We were taught up to here," he said, "But I've read to the end, more or less."

"Ah, self-taught, I see~" Break hummed, taking back the textbook. "Well, that'll be all. I still haven't marked your test yet."

"Don't expect it back any time soon," Elliot muttered under his breath, turning on his heel and leading away Leo, who nodded almost politely at Break before doing as the other had instructed.

"Are you coming, or are you just going to follow me creepily?" Leo asked once they'd left the science lab.

"W-where are you going?" Elliot questioned in return hesitantly, as if he didn't know the answer.

Wordlessly, Leo pulled out the lighter from his inside pocket and shook it pointedly at Elliot, and then gestured to field before proceeding in that direction. Behind him, Elliot was still mentally debating whether he should follow or not; what if they got caught? "Tch, fine. I'll go," he gave in. Surely just _bending_ the rules only once couldn't hurt. Besides, he was a prefect – albeit Elliot couldn't really see how that was an excuse, but he decided to trust his inchoate instincts, and follow Leo.

It didn't take any longer than a couple of minutes for them to reach the field, at which point the blonde could relax just that fragment more.

"So," Leo started, as he glanced over his shoulder one last time before diving behind the tree and sticking the already rolled cigarette in his mouth. One hand cupping over the tip of the cigarette, he held the flame of the lighter up to it, exhaling swiftly. "Is there a particular reason you don't spend time with your other friends? They seemed nice enough."

"They're annoying, and too… _persistent_ ," Elliot countered, scrunching his nose up at the foul smell of cigarette smoke invading his senses. "Give it more than a day, and then you'll realise."

"Hm, alright," Leo hummed in disbelief, taking another quick drag from the cigarette as the usual sly grin returning to his lips. "So does that mean you don't mind me, you know, hanging around you instead?"

"Tch, you're better than Oz, I'll give you that…"

"Oh, Elliot, you're flattering me," Leo teased, lifting his gaze from the ground directly up to Elliot's eyes. "So, does _that_ mean we're friends?"

Elliot froze. That question really did have him stuck. "Sure, call it whatever."

"Well, if you're my friend," Leo continued muttering, pausing to inhale on the cigarette for a second. "Shouldn't I have your number?"

"Ah?! No!" Elliot rejected bluntly, discreetly clenching his fists at his sides. But the interrogative yet laughing stare from Leo was much stronger than his initial dismay, and eventually, Elliot gave in with a distinct roll of the eyes. Without a word, he retrieved his phone from the inside pocket of his blazer, handing it out to the other once it was unlocked. "Fine."

The cigarette dangling loosely from between the same two fingers, Leo couldn't resist but chuckle slightly to himself as he input his number into the other's phone and handed it back to him, sticking the cigarette back between his lips. "You really are a bit of a pushover, Elliot. But I don't mind you." Another snicker. "Next time you want a booty call, just hit me up."

Cheeks darkening to a deep red from his furious blushing for _no goddamn reason,_ Elliot mentally punched himself, gritting his teeth together at the other's relentless teasing. Of course, he _knew_ he was joking, but it _still_ made Elliot flustered. _Somehow_ – he liked to promise himself. "Shut up…"

"Don't get so wound up, I'm just kidding," Leo shook his head derisively, sucking the life out of the cigarette before aimlessly throwing it out onto the grass, prompting Elliot to wonder how long it would be until the mass of cigarette butts built up enough for one of the teachers – or the students – to get the hint. "Alright, I'm done."

"Great," Elliot deadpanned, sarcasm embedded deeply into his sour tone. "Let's go. I'll watch you slowly get more and more pissed off at Oz and the others."

"Haha, ok," Leo chuckled, "Let me go to the bathroom first, though."

"Tch, _fine_ ," Elliot granted, although only using it as an excuse to prolong the time spent _alone_ with Leo.

Just as they left the field, though, the ash-blonde felt something – that _something_ being the same warm feeling fluttering in the pit of his stomach as yesterday.

Maybe this was just what having a real friend felt like.

Yes, _friend_. That sounded right, Elliot was forced to remind himself.

 _Nothing more, and nothing less._


	5. Chapter 5

_**(A/Ns: I promise after this chapter I'll write something with more plot than 5k words of character development and sickness tropes :D yehhh i don't know how ooc this is, it's difficult to write characters as sick when it's never happened in canon. Also, the piece of music Leo played is "Nuvole Bianche" by Ludovico Einaudi. It's a really beautiful piece.**_

 _ **Please feel free to review if you get the chance ^^ I'd really appreciate it!**_

 _ **Content warnings: swearing, vomiting, underage smoking**_

 _ **Disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Elliot was really beginning to question himself when he noticed Leo's absence more than his presence.

It was already the second period of Thursday, after he'd suffered through yet another sport lesson with Oz – who primarily spent the hour being beaten up by Alice – as his only company. Sure, Leo hadn't bothered to show up to either sport or the library for their study period yet, but after speaking to him about it yesterday during Literature, he truly did trust that the noirette would show up at _least_ for their free – no, _study_ period.

That trust could have easily been in place of naivety, however.

From across the room, Elliot noticed through his sidelong view Oz and the rest of his acquaintances, waving frantically in an attempt to get a response. And Elliot gave them the exact opposite of what they wanted, retorting with a bitter sneer, before reverting his focus to the textbook open on the desk in front of him.

Concentration didn't come to him as easily as he'd have wished, unfortunately. It seemed the harder he tried for it, the further and further away it got. Something was bothering him, clearly, but Elliot would happily blame something utterly absurd for his concentration issues instead of thinking it had anything to do with the currently absent noirette.

As if on cue at that thought, a flash of movement by the door instantly caught Elliot's attention; albeit it wasn't exactly _difficult_ to addle him. And none other was it than the very person Elliot had secretly, internally been hoping for.

 _Tch, at least he's not skiving…_ Elliot thought dismissively, pretending not to notice and lowering his head to the text book.

For some reason, his heart was pumping harder and faster when he noticed Leo approach him. It was _stupid_ to be getting so flustered over something so trivial. Maybe it was just shock – yes, that was it: shock that it was the first time so far that Leo had bothered showing up to their study period.

 _Play it cool, play it cool, play it c-_ "Where the hell were you?!" Elliot interrogated. _Idiot. That wasn't 'cool'._ "I-I mean… you said you'd come to the library yesterday!"

"Mhm," Leo hummed, nodding his head slightly. Then, not even muttering a single coherent sentence besides the occasional incomprehensible, inaudible murmur, he shuffled through the contents of his bag, now on the floor, and pulled out his copy of _'The Sign of Four'_ and their most recent Literature assignment from Vincent. For a brief moment, Elliot did wonder how he'd managed to almost destroy a (presumably) brand-new book in less than a week. But soon that thought bypassed his mind, as Leo finally spoke up again, digging through his pocket for a pen. "But yesterday I didn't know that I'd be called to a meeting with the headteacher for an hour and a half. _With_ my mother."

"Oh…" Elliot said in defeat. "Why?"

Leo shrugged, holding the pen between his teeth as he flicked through the pages of the book aimlessly. "To talk about _progress_ , for some reason." The pen was promptly moved to his hand, being spun between two fingers. Bitterly, he added: "Oh, and about how I haven't been showing up to Physical Ed."

Elliot couldn't help himself as he said, "I told you so."

That remark was promptly met with irritation, as Leo flung his pen at Elliot. And it landed square in the centre of his face.

His eyebrow twitched. "Hey! W-What was that for?"

"Hm, you annoyed me," Leo muttered, shuffling around in his blazer pocket for the spare pen as he slumped back in the chair. "Mm… what did we have to do again?"

"Tch, do you not have the assignment yourself?"

"No. I lost it."

"Figures…" Elliot said, "The question was 'How does _Conan Doyle_ present the character of _Sherlock Holmes_ as an unusual detective?'. You start with the extract at Pondicherry Lodge."

Wordlessly, Leo nodded, scribbling down the information as he was told it, whilst discreetly drumming his fingers against the edge of the chair.

Something was off. Elliot couldn't quite pin-point it, but something wasn't right. Instead, he simply opted to initiate idle conversation; maybe all he needed was a distraction. Because, clearly, the meeting hadn't been particularly fun. "How was your meeting?"

"Absolutely terrible, thanks for asking," Leo replied, his tone harbouring a biting edge, one which really did make Elliot uneasy. "What time is it now?"

"Uh, just gone 10am," Elliot answered, "Why?"

"Nothing." Another fed up sigh. Then, dragging a hand lethargically through his dishevelled hair, he added almost inaudibly with a second exhale: "Dammit, I really need a cigarette right now…"

 _Not again…_

"Right…" Elliot murmured, "Well, you've got…" He checked his watch again, albeit pointlessly. "… another 45 minutes. Just wait until then."

"Hm, no. I don't think I will," Leo retorted, dropping the pen and shoving a hand back into his inside blazer pocket. "Are you coming?"

"Tch, fine," Elliot said as if he didn't have a choice. Well, if he let his curiosity take control of his decisions, he _didn't_ have a choice.

"Thank you," Leo sighed in relief, checking over his shoulder before leading the other out of the library with an awkward, lingering silence. "I'll explain when we get up there."

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you better- wait, why are you _thanking_ me?"

"For, you know, not kicking up a fuss," Leo mentioned, the mockery in his intonation still present, though less obvious. "Usually you do when you find out someone defied your blessed rules."

"Tch, I do not…" he denied. But as soon as they made it up to the door to the roof, and Leo began picking the lock, Elliot felt he need to add mentally: _never in my whole school life have I broken the rules so much in one week…_ "Be quick. I don't want to get caught."

"Mhm," Leo murmured under his breath, breaking open the door and pushing it open, as it was carried by the wind a moment later. Thankfully, the rain from earlier had cleared up, leaving a thin layer of humidity in the air. But other than that, it had dried up, allowing Elliot to step outside without getting soaked (like he'd done on the way to school earlier), and Leo to successfully light the already rolled cigarette.

"So," Elliot started, staring at Leo from the side as the inhaled the first drag of smoke, pocketing the lighter as he pulled the cigarette from his lips with two fingers behind an exhale of relief. "Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?"

Leo rolled his eyes, sucking on the cigarette once again; he'd hoped Elliot had forgotten about that.

"My mother and I got into an argument," he answered bitterly, furrowing his eyebrows and taking yet another hit of nicotine, still waiting for it to do its job. "She woke me up early, I threw something at her." Another drag. "And then she took my lighter and didn't give it back until after the meeting."

A nagging thought at the front of Elliot's mind made him want to ask why his mother even gave him back the lighter in the first place. But before he began constructing the sentence in his head, he remembered the noirette's erratic, violent tendencies, and the question was promptly answered from that alone.

Besides, directly confronting him about it probably wouldn't have been the best course of action.

"So wait… your mother actually _lets_ you, you know…?" Elliot asked. _Subtle. Really fucking subtle._

Leo nodded briefly, glancing down at the cigarette burning away between his fingers. "Not that she'd be able to do anything. We compromised, and now I don't smoke inside the house."

Something suggested to Elliot that it probably wasn't a very fair compromise, nor did Leo really get along with his mother. Once again, though, dysfunctional families weren't something he was overly familiar with; all his friends came from upper class, typical nuclear families.

 _Great. Another reason to add to why this brat repulses me_ … Elliot tried to tell himself. But, really, it wasn't repulse, or disgust, at all – if anything, it was curiosity.

"Alright, I'm done," Leo announced, flicking aside the finished cigarette and extinguishing it with the sole of his shoe. Turning on his heel back to the door, he promptly tore Elliot from his trance, asking: "Are you coming?"

"O-Oh, yeah, sure…" Elliot jolted, before attempting to shake it off and follow Leo back inside as if nothing had happened.

As they descended the stairs, any chance of conversation blocked by silence, Elliot noted that Leo's bitterness was still there. It had just dissipated slightly, but his demeanour was as unsettled as usual – possibly more so. It was very off-putting, to say the least, making Elliot question whether everything he considered saying would cause an unnecessary response. With those thoughts, he eventually came to the conclusion that preserving the silence was probably the safest option, simply shoving his hands in his pocket and following the other.

It took about a minute for anything new to happen, but when it did, it came in the strange form of Leo just stopping dead in his tracks, halfway down the corridor before the library.

"Tch, what?" Elliot scoffed, trying to zoom in on Leo's line of vision but to no avail. "Oi, Leo!"

"Hm, I didn't know you had a piano here," Leo pointed out, somewhat irrelevantly to Elliot. But it wasn't irrelevant to him, whose gaze had quickly flitted to and locked on the baby grand piano, isolated in the corner of one of the old music rooms. Wordlessly, he turned to the door, placing a hand on the door knob and pushing it open lightly, surprised to find that it had been left unlocked.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Just having a break," said Leo, brushing his fingers delicately over the piano keys, drawing lines in the thin layer of dust. "Do you play piano, Elliot?"

"Tch, of _course_. I've had lessons."

"Hehe, I haven't," Leo chuckled, flashing a brief grin at the other. Then, he tentatively pressed down on one of the keys, surprised to find the piano wasn't atrociously out of tune, before taking a seat on the black, velvet bench, resting his foot over the sustain pedal.

"This better be good…" Elliot muttered, inaudibly and not within Leo's auditory range, as he took the cue from the other's hesitation and closed the door behind them. "Go on, I'm listening."

There was a brief silence, before Leo positioned both hands over the keys of the first chord.

And from the very first note played, Elliot was mesmerised.

The first part of the melody was simple, a new chord in the octave about the middle C being elegantly played in the form of a broken arpeggio; each note equal weights and times apart.

His perception of time began to slowly warp as the piece escalated, the left-hand brushing over the keys in a series of frequent, complex chords, along with an ear-catching, tranquilizing medley to accompany in the right hand.

Playing the piano came so… naturally to him. It was fascinating, really, how he could shift from being so irritable and grumpy to so engrossed in music in the space of a minute. Or however long it had been – Elliot wasn't really sure.

Before he could even comprehend it, the music came to an end, dissipating in a broken arpeggio which scaled up and down the piano, fading off into the silence with such eloquence.

Elliot blinked, and Leo turned around.

"That was _'Nuvole Bianche'_ , by Einaudi," he said, standing up from the piano. "Library?"

Wordlessly, Elliot nodded. He was completely and utterly lost for words. Never before had he encountered music so powerful. Dare he say enlightening?

 _That was… incredible…_

* * *

Speaking of Leo's absence, Elliot once again found himself alone in lesson.

At least he'd had a week with his mind at equilibrium – you could say – before this. Yes, the past week had gone as normal; so normal you wouldn't think that Elliot was internally conflicted. Every day for an entire week, he'd arrived at tutor to find Leo already sitting there, his face buried in a book. And five minutes before the end of each of their lessons, he'd roll a cigarette, before dragging Elliot (or Elliot followed him willingly) outside to the roof, or the field – out of sight.

Granted, since the meeting on the previous Thursday, Leo had shown up to P.E. once on the following Wednesday. But that was without a kit, which landed him a detention with the head of sport the next day. Elliot could also distinctly remember Literature last period of that day, after which Leo snuck out of school at the end of the day to – what a surprise – have a cigarette, before _allowing_ himself to be guided back inside by Elliot.

But other than that, the past week had gone as routinely as it could get.

And then the abomination of today happened.

Usually, when Leo was there (more than likely testing his nerves,) his mind wasn't able to wander; he was too busy trying to not show how pissed he was. Or, he was trying to get over Leo's incomprehensible academic ability, or his delicate yet extemporary piano abilities. Elliot hadn't been able to truly accept either yet. But that was part of his mental equilibrium, if you could even call it that.

But today, on the first Monday of the following week, there wasn't that distraction, which left his mind wandering, until eventually, it reached the same state of chaos. From there, it really didn't take long, before the same uncomfortable, overwhelming, and confusing feelings made their return to his consciousness.

Maybe Leo would just magically appear like the week before last.

 _Tch, don't be stupid…_ Elliot scolded himself.

Abruptly, however, after God-knows how long of being totally zoned out from his surroundings, the bell rang, reverberating through his ears until his attention was diverted. Perhaps for the best, he mentally noted, as the screeching of chairs sounded like they always did.

Obviously, thinking his no-so-discreet trance had gone unnoticed by his Chemistry teacher – Break – was just naïve.

"Elliot?" Break called from his desk at the front, flashing the same grin as usual. "Could you come here please? Don't worry, you're not in trouble~"

Cursing himself and his stupidity, Elliot traipsed over to the desk where Break sat, indefatigable boredom and lethargy in every step.

"Lonely today~?" Break hummed, his words harbouring a noticeable mocking edge. Then, taking Elliot's silence – which practically radiated irritability – as his cue, he proceeded to pick up the last copy of the work they'd done that lesson, extending it out to Elliot. "If you see Leo before me, do me a favour and hand this to him~"

"Sure…" Elliot agreed, albeit reluctantly, as he shoved the papers in his bag. "D-Do you know where he is today?"

"Hm…" Break hummed in idleness, scanning through the register. "He's not in today. The register says _"Sickness"._ "

"Ok, thank you."

"You're welcome," Break chuckled. "Have a fun day~"

Elliot almost snorted out loud in derision at _that_ suggestion.

Fun? As if.

* * *

Another hour alone was enough proof that – contrary to what his hopes wanted to convince him – Leo wasn't going to randomly show up out of nowhere.

That triggered an unwanted response in Elliot: concern.

He shouldn't be worried. Or bothered. Everyone gets sick, including him, and his stupid thoughts. Maybe that was some kind of mental sickness: constant worry for someone you just feel overly conflicted about. Oh god, what if they were _both_ sick? Was he really destined to care (or not care) so much about one person that it almost kills him?

Ok, he need to stop; his thoughts were getting out of control now.

But the nagging feeling of anxiety at the pit of his stomach just wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how hard he tried to repress it, or deny its existence.

Tentatively, he glanced up from the Maths work, oh-so-innocently slipping his phone out of his blazer pocket and stealthily lowering it to under the desk. Gilbert wasn't looking right now. Probably.

If Leo hadn't given him his number the other week, he didn't know _what_ he'd have done.

 ** _[To Leo, 12:04]  
_** _Where are you?_

A moment later, his phone vibrated just a little too audibly, making his heart flip subsequently.

 ** _[From Leo, 12:05]  
_** _who is this?_

It was only at that point that Elliot realised that he hadn't actually messaged Leo at any point yet.

 ** _[To Leo, 12:05]  
_** _Elliot. You gave me your number. Who else would it be?_

The few minutes it took for a response to come through unnerved him, to say the least. But, fortunately, all apprehension was settled once he _did_ receive a reply.

 ** _[From Leo, 12:09]  
_** _at home_

 ** _[From Leo, 12:09]  
_** _im sick_

Alright, so perhaps it wasn't really a _good_ thing that Leo was sick, but at least he knew where he was, and that lingering sense of uncertainty had thankfully dissipated. Nevertheless, though, Elliot wasn't overly convinced.

 ** _[To Leo, 12:10]  
_** _Sure_

 ** _[From Leo, 12:10]  
_** _you can come here and check but i might vomit on you_

Lovely.

 ** _[To Leo, 12:11]  
_** _Where do you live?_

 ** _[From Leo, 12:11]  
_** _i was joking…_

Once again, Elliot was kicking himself and his stupid inability to say sensible things when he was stressed. Stressed? Stressed. Yes. Stressed. Or lonely: lonely worked too.

 ** _[To Leo, 12:12]  
_** _I didn't mean it like that_

 ** _[To Leo, 12:13]  
_** _Break gave me your work to give to you_

A passable excuse.

 ** _[From Leo, 12:13]  
_** _78 Creymore Road_

 ** _[From Leo, 12:13]  
_** _you'll be walking a while_

 ** _[To Leo, 12:13]  
_** _I don't care. I'll see you after school._

It wasn't a total lie. Arriving home late to his family after his erratic train of thoughts today didn't sound like a horrible idea.

 ** _[From Leo, 12:15]  
_** _k_

Just as that message came through to his phone, Gilbert's attention was finally caught by the _buzz_ , loudened by the table. Noticing Elliot's averted gaze, he promptly shot him a warning glare, gesturing for him to think twice about what he was doing. Swallowing thickly in his panicked haste, Elliot shoved his phone back into his pocket, picking up his pen as if he'd been doing nothing suspicious.

And the rest of the lesson was filled with nothing but boredom, paranoia, and Gilbert's voice droning on about solving identities. Or whatever it was he was teaching them.

Eventually, after what felt like probably the entire _day_ to him at this point, the double lesson of Maths was over, everyone packing up as usual at the cue of the bell.

"Elliot?" Gilbert called as the students began swarming to and pouring through the door. "Can I speak with you a moment?"

Elliot, who was 99% sure he knew what this would be about, swiftly turned on his heel, dragging himself back over to the desk at the front of the room.

Wordlessly, Gilbert just stared interrogatively at him to begin with as if to say _"I think you know what you've done,"_ as he slipped his jacket off the back of the chair and shrugged it over his shoulders. Then, he asked, "Why were you on your phone in my lesson?"

Like the scolded, foolish, and guilty child he was, the ash-blonde simply shot Gilbert a clueless glance, shrugging his shoulders barely.

Gilbert sighed. "If you don't give me an adequate excuse, then… I'll have no choice but to tell father."

Elliot fought back the strong desire to roll his eyes at that threat, however his pride (and fear of being penalised for it) decided for him that a blunt display of attitude was not an appropriate response. Instead, under his breath, he muttered his excuse. "I was just trying to find out where Leo is."

"He's sick," answered Gilbert for him. He lowered his voice slightly and exhaled. "Elliot, just because I'm technically your family, it doesn't mean I can let you get away with that."

"I know," Elliot sighed. Gilbert held a good point.

And as if to only emphasise that, barely a second later, Vincent – his other adoptive older brother – waltzed into the room, and without a moment of hesitation headed straight over to Gilbert. Yes, that was right: two out of four of Elliot's teachers were his brothers – _adoptive_. He said that; he'd always gotten along with them better than his _biological_ brothers. Granted, they didn't live at home anymore. They also didn't go any easier on him, and so the way Elliot saw it, the fact that they were related was irrelevant.

"Ah, Elliot," Vincent greeted sinisterly. Somehow. He then took one extra step closer to Gil. "What have you done this time?"

Gilbert once again answered in his place. "He was texting during my lesson."

"Only for a bit…" said Elliot, flitting his guilt-stricken gaze elsewhere.

"A confession is your worst enemy, Elliot," Vincent scolded, clearly in an attempt to patronise him. "Have I taught you nothing about lying?"

"Vince, cut it out," Gilbert said through gritted teeth. Elliot always cringed when he called him _'Vince.'_ "I'm going out now. Vince, you lock up." _There it was again_.

"As you wish." Vincent nodded willingly, watching Gil stride out of the room before dropping his unreadable stare dead on Elliot. "Elliot, how many times must I remind you not to mess with Gil? You won't want _my_ personal punishment if you do. Just keep that in mind."

"I understand…" Elliot said, once again like the caught and scolded child he was. But Vincent had always been overly protective over Gilbert, and this shouldn't have been off-putting.

However, it triggered one of his most repetitive thoughts from earlier. It was… frustrating, to be reminded of something trivial.

 _Perhaps it… runs in the family to care about someone so much who almost kills you…_

Oh well. That was irrelevant. All that mattered now was making it through the last double lesson of the day without the noirette's presence.

* * *

After two hours of Literature with Vincent watching him devotedly, and a nearly half-hour walk through areas and streets of all three social classes, Elliot was finally coming close to his destination: Leo's house.

The first thing he'd done was input Leo's address into Google Maps, and wait for the damn thing to load. In that time, he managed to successfully pry himself away from Oz, _and_ convince his family – namely his sister, Vanessa – that he had a legitimate reason to be late home. And both of those were tiresome, bothersome activities themselves, which didn't place him in a particularly joyful mood for when the realisation hit that Leo's house was over half an hour away.

Thankfully, he _had_ managed to shave some minutes off the predicted arrival time by aggressively speed-walking the majority of the way there.

The last 10 minutes of the journey had taken him into a rather lower-class part of town. Maybe that wasn't the correct ( _politically_ correct) way of putting that, but once again, when he had never really been exposed to such concepts, you couldn't expect much better of him. And by this point, Elliot had finally learnt to simply get over his ignorance. To him, the houses seemed scummy, tiny, and run-down, never taking up more than 6 metres squared or so – which was a stark contrast to his 2-acre _mansion,_ virtually, on the opposite end of town.

Eventually, though, after sucking it up and dealing with the poverty (he assumed,) Elliot reached the street which Leo had said, scanning the house numbers on his left and right, and watching them increasing numerically down the seemingly endless street. And, _finally_ , after what felt like far too long, he found Leo's house, and the unexplainable pressure in his chest which had been there all day alleviated just marginally.

It wasn't the house number that gave it away though. No, it was the scruffy and indeed ill-looking teen slumped across the front porch, a cigarette burning away and balancing loosely between two limp fingers.

"I didn't think you were supposed to smoke when you're ill," Elliot said as he crossed the empty driveway and tried not to sound as if he were provoking the other. _Because he genuinely didn't mean to;_ sometimes he just didn't get the message across as he'd hoped to.

Leo, lethargically lifting his focus from the ground with an excessive amount of effort, snorted derisively in response, not moving a single one of his as he raised the cigarette to his lips and took another steady drag. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were the expert, _Doctor Nightray_." Inhale. Smirk. Exhale. "Get off my case though, please. This is my first one of the day so far."

Elliot bit down on his tongue inside his mouth, instead retorting with a stupidly lame remark over the snarky comment which had originally come to mind. "If you're well enough to smoke and take the piss, then…. you were well enough to be in school!"

"Hm, I beg to differ," Leo said, tapping the ash off the tip of the cigarette gently; completely ignoring the existence of the ashtray behind him. He screwed his face up briefly, waiting for a bit for the lingering nausea to somewhat settle before speaking again. "Remind me, why are you here?"

"Tch, I have your Chemistry work from Break."

"And you _had_ to do that _now_?"

"Well, no…" Elliot stuttered. "I just… wanted to make sure you were okay, _that's all_."

Leo's hand discreetly manoeuvred to his stomach, the light tough going unnoticed by the other. "How sweet of you."

"Don't flatter yourself…" There was a short pause. "So… why weren't you in today? What's _actually_ wrong with you?"

"Oh, well that is-"

Before he even finished his sentence, Leo abruptly cut himself off, his eyes widening behind his glasses and mop of hair. He was dead still for a good 5 seconds before Elliot noticed that something was up.

"Leo?"

Wordlessly, the cigarette falling out of his fingers and onto the ground, Leo stood up, blindly groping the door handle (albeit it was already partially open) and pushing it open. And it was only after he'd scrambled inside with a hand plastered over his mouth that Elliot realised what was happening.

 _Lovely indeed…_

For a few moments, Elliot didn't really know how to follow up from the recent events. Was he supposed to just leave? Go in a help? Stand outside and wait like a total idiot?

After much deliberating, he eventually went with the middle option. First, he took it upon himself to extinguish the cigarette out with the heel of his foot; Leo could thank him later for ensuring his house wouldn't burn down. Then, he tentatively stepped past the threshold into his house. His eyes began to wander, considering he hadn't ever been here before, but before he could observe anymore than slightly cracked walls and hall decorations of the bare minimum, his attention was diverted by the sound of strained retching, coming from what he presumed was the kitchen.

Venturing towards the admittedly disgusting sounds, Elliot soon found his assumptions to be correct. Along with that, he found Leo, bent over the kitchen sink with one hand clasping the edge of the counter and the other weakly holding the majority of his hair out of he way. Bile rose from his throat and spewed into the sink with a sickening retch, but the furthest Elliot could get before feeling nauseas himself was just a step ahead of the door frame.

It took nearly 5 minutes for Leo to be reduced to dry heaving, panting over the sink and waiting for the rolling in his stomach to stop completely. Only then did Elliot step forward.

"Don't… come near me…" Leo said breathlessly, waving a hand at the other as if to say _'shoo.'_

"You need to lie down, idiot," Elliot grunted. "I'll… help you up to your room."

Leo _wanted_ to point out how suggestive that sounded but couldn't find the willpower to do so. Instead, he languidly pulled away from the sink, wiping his mouth with his pyjama sleeve and staggering over to the door. "I'll be fine on my own. I don't want you catching anything."

"I'll be fine," Elliot muttered, "Just… let me make sure you're okay. And not passed out on the floor somewhere."

"Alright, whatever," Leo sighed, leading the other up the star and to his room in total silence. Despite how irritated he was getting with Elliot, his willpower just wasn't there, or the energy to send him away.

Eventually, after dragging himself up the stairs, one step at a time, Leo reached the narrow corridor at the top of his stairs. His room was only just opposite the bathroom – the door left open – and after another metre or so of carrying himself sluggishly down the corridor, he made it to his room, with Elliot tagging along closely behind him.

Plucking up enough energy to make it across the floor plan of his bedroom, the noirette _finally_ made it to his bed, which suddenly looked more appealing than ever, as he threw himself under the covers, jolting his fragile stomach in the process and regretting it instantly, before wrapping the blanket around his frail form.

Leo pouted. "You can leave now."

"Do you not have, like…" Elliot blinked a few times in surprise. He wrinkled his nose briefly. "… a bucket or something?"

"I'm not a child," Leo said, his hair poking out the top of the sheets. "I can make it to the bathroom when I need to."

"Alright."

Elliot stood for a few more minutes without saying a single word.

The urge to take care of Leo, watch over him, get him water, make soup – anything which displayed a stupid, disgusting amount of affection (in his eyes) – was undeniably strong. It felt wrong. Where had this random maternal instinct even _come_ from?

Leo was passed out like a log in barely a minute, which he promptly took as his cue to leave; standing around in Leo's room whilst he was asleep sounded a bit weird when he mentally repeated it. And, as he turned on his heel without a single sound, spare a discreet mutter of "get well soon," Elliot could finally come to a conclusion to that question.

It was _obvious_ : it was the illogical, erratic feelings which attached themselves to his conscious like glue whenever Leo did something impressive, or irrational, or _both_.

Dare he call it… affection?


	6. Chapter 6

_**(A/Ns: and i updated in less than a month! yeeess. And somehow returned with 6400 words. Anyway, this is... a sad one. I would just like to clarify now that he incredibly homophobic views stated by certain characters are NOT reflective of my own in any way, shape or form. I am also aware that the process of coming out/coming to terms with your sexuality is different for everyone. But this is not, in any way, exaggerated. Thank you for hearing me out! And please point out if i offended anyone! I may be a homosexual myself but i am in no way perfect :3**_

 _ **As usual, please feel free to review! :D**_

 _ **Content warnings: mentions of vomiting, smoking references, swearing, strong mentions of homosexuality, highly homophobic views expressed by certain characters.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters!)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Perhaps Leo returning to school wasn't the best idea ever.

No, Elliot hadn't come to that conclusion out of nowhere. If anything, it was _uncharacteristic_ of him to think that considering the last 3 days without him had been just… empty. _That_ conclusion had been pulled from the fact Leo had only gotten half an hour through Thursday's Chemistry lesson before passively whining about how he didn't want to be there – or rather, _shouldn't_.

Elliot wasn't even going to _try_ to find out where he was in Physical Ed, because Leo wasn't a whiner. And _because_ Leo wasn't a whiner – or at least, he didn't _think_ he was – Elliot was consequently on his best behaviour. Only whatever non-existent God that was out there knew what might provoke him or set him off. And, frankly, Elliot wasn't willing to take that risk.

He could still vividly recall the events of the Monday, when he'd arrived at Leo's house to find the other barely functioning, and had allowed nature to run its course before he literally _put the other to bed._ Ok, so not _literally._ Maybe in Elliot's fantasy.

And since then, it had been 2 lonely days of boring silences in every lesson, followed by the repetitive droning of Oz making futile attempts to cheer him up. He didn't _need_ cheering up; Oz and Lottie just seemed to like exacerbating his already poor attitude, which they just skewed out of context without any kind of regard for Elliot's dignity.

At first, when he'd spotted the noirette slumped over a book in tutor as usual, it almost felt as though a huge burden had been alleviated from his shoulders. But after barely 15 minutes, it had become evident that perhaps his relief was naivety.

And he hadn't gotten any better; if anything he'd gotten _worse_. He _was_ sick, albeit _some_ people made improvements after 3 days, but Elliot simply bit down any comments about why he wasn't getting much better (specifically regarding certain lifestyle choices which ultimately proved to be triggers) and remained mostly silent.

Because, as he'd already said, Leo wasn't a whiner.

But the urge to speak up and voice his concern (the concern he hadn't fully accepted that he felt yet) was a lot stronger than his common sense, and the longer he said nothing, the harder it became to repress.

Ok, he really needed to learn how to better restrain his thoughts.

"So, uh…" he started, tripping over his words before he even got halfway through the question. "H-How are things going?"

Languidly, Leo pulled his gaze up from the blank worksheet in front of him, sitting up to better respond to Elliot's attempt at eye contact. One hand discreetly making its way to his stomach as he partially stretched, he simply glared at the other. Weakly, at that; his usual flare – as Elliot had once described it the previous week – wasn't quite present. He groaned. "Awfully, thanks."

"Are you sure you should really be in school?" Elliot questioned, his tone more judgemental than what could be considered safe.

"I slept a few hours last night, which was a first," Leo said matter-of-factly, returning his gaze to the first question and scribbling down the answer, even more illegible than usual – somehow. "Besides, I read in a book once that you're most contagious in the first few days of an illness. So, don't worry, Elliot: you're not going to die."

Subconsciously, Elliot still shuffled in the other direction an inch. "W-When was the last time you were sick?"

"Around… yesterday afternoon." Leo replied after a short pause, burying the hand from his stomach back in his hair; leaning dependently on the edge of the table.

Another inch. "Right."

Leo froze for a brief second, the pen stilling in his gently shaking right hand, as the other hand lowered slightly to just beneath his mouth. Passively, he grunted, "I feel even worse."

Elliot flushed slightly, although not as much as Leo. That was probably his fault. He cocked an eyebrow. "Do you need to be… excused, or…?"

"Probably, but I'll be sure to let you know exactly when," Leo said, as if ambiguity combined with teasing was his main objective. Then, the same expression of grimace returned abruptly, the hand holding the pen dropping it and lifting slightly to capture Break's attention. "Now. Now's when."

Right before Elliot, in his haste, was about to say that there was a ninety percent chance Break wasn't paying attention, Break miraculously responded. Wordlessly, he gestured towards the door, waving Leo off as immediate permission to leave.

Just as Leo got up to leave, Elliot was _convinced_ that Break had used telepathy or something stupid to know what was wrong.

It was only 5 minutes before Leo returned, slipping back into the classroom unnoticed by everyone except Elliot, which was just enough time for him to stop being so flustered over it.

"Are you… okay now?" he asked cautiously.

"No, not really," Leo said in return, bluntly as ever.

 _That was probably a stupid thing to ask…_ he mentally scolded himself. And so, Elliot remained silent for what was left of the lesson, which was only another 40 minutes at this point. In fact, as an even bolder, more prominent and significant indicator that Leo really wasn't himself today, he had yet to get fidgety over a craving for nicotine.

And then, before he knew it, Elliot was yanked out of his long, tedious train of thoughts by the ringing of bell followed by increasing volume of conversations surrounding him.

"If it's alright with you, I'd rather be alone this lunch," Leo muttered, flinging his bag over his shoulder as he slanted towards the table for temporary support. "Don't take it personally. If I meant it personally, I'd say it like so."

"Oh, right… yeah…" Elliot responded, trying not to allow his words to reflect the sudden overwhelming feeling of rejection he truly felt in that moment. "I'll… be in the canteen."

"Don't say it so hopefully," Leo shut him down coldly. "I'll see you in fifth. Probably."

"Yeah, I-"

"Leo~!" Break called from the front of the room, sending the other a reassuring glance, all the while grinning shamelessly at Elliot, clearly knowing he'd interrupted him. "Could you come here for a moment please? The rest of you can go, and have a lovely day~"

"Fantastic…" Leo deadpanned, staggering over to the front desk. "Bye."

"Yeah, bye…" Elliot said quietly. He stood idly for a few moments, unsure of his objective. Then, fully aware that Break and Leo were both staring at him, he hurriedly turned on his heel, storming out of the classroom and attaching himself to the crowd of students all cramming together and dispersing at the doors to outside.

"Well he doesn't take the truth particularly gracefully, does he~?" Break chuckled.

Leo could help but grin slightly at that one, as he collapsed into the chair opposite his teacher. "Elliot isn't particularly graceful with anything."

"My my, and I thought you two were friends~"

"Possibly," Leo said, hosting the same ambiguity as usual. "Could you get straight to the point please?"

"Cheeky, aren't you? You remind me as a more… hm, _recalcitrant_ version of Oz," Break narrowed his eyes at the noirette. "But alright. First of all, I won't ask where you went. But tell me, Leo, why are you not at home today, hm? People of your physique get ill even easier, usually. Fufu."

Briefly, Leo shifted, internally uncomfortable under the other's interrogative stare. "I'm well enough now. Don't patronise me."

"Bitter still too, I see…" Break hummed. "Are you sure you don't want to go home? I'm sure you know that the best way to heal is to rest~"

"I'm _fine_."

"Alright, I'll leave it," Break gave up, twirling the lollipop stick around between two fingers after plucking it from his mouth. As if luring Leo into the false sense of security, he leaned forward marginally, and looked the other dead in the eye behind the thick-rimmed glasses and mop of hair. "But if there's ever anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask me~"

Prying his eyes away from the probing stare, Leo quickly stood up, wavering slightly as the dizziness overcame him. But that didn't hold him back as he strode out the classroom, because really, that was _not_ a conversation Leo was willing to delve into; now, of all times.

* * *

Elliot hated this feeling of rejection.

Of course, unlike most of the things Leo was the grounds for his introduction and new insight to, Elliot _had_ felt rejection before. But not quite like this. Not quite like wandering around the school for a few minutes in search of an objective, before finally – _reluctantly_ – settling with returning to his old friends.

Sure, he still spoke to them, and avoiding Oz was simply impossible, but ever since investing most of his time in Leo, he hadn't been around them nearly as much as before. Returning would feel strange, although when Leo had straight up told him _not_ to hang around him, he was really restricted with where to go.

Thankfully, as Elliot stepped through the canteen doors, he was quick to notice that his usual group, sitting secluded in the corner, was much smaller than usual – the only two there were Oz and Lottie, and if those two weren't the biggest teases, Elliot might have been happy.

"Hey! Elliot~!" Oz called from across the room, shamelessly drawing a few of the other students' attention to Elliot. Sneering derisively at the unnecessary fuss, Elliot sauntered over to their table, dropping his bag carelessly and plonking himself onto the seat opposite them. "Where's Leo?"

 _Dick_. "He's… not too well," Elliot said: the vaguest answer he could give. "He wanted to be alone."

"Well… tell him to get well soon!" Oz pouted exaggeratingly in some terrible attempt at showing sympathy.

"How the hell am I gonna tell him that?!"

"Sorry!" Oz yelped. He glanced aside momentarily at Elliot after trying to avoid his piercing glare, finding that he wasn't eating but instead picking at the food. "Hey Elliot… are you not gonna eat anything?"

"No," Elliot snapped back at him. "I'm not hungry," he said stubbornly, continuing to pick at the salad with the plastic fork.

"Mhm, what's his problem?" Lottie hummed, twirling a few strands of her hair around with delicate fingers.

Unnoticeably, Oz shifted an inch towards Lottie, staring at Elliot – still sulking – in the corner of his vision. "I think it's because Leo told him to stay away…"

"Ah, it seems the time has come to finally talk about this~" she chimed, swivelling around on her seat and looking Elliot dead in the eye. With an uncharacteristic sincerity laced into her usual quirky tone, she continued. "Elliot, what really is Leo to you? Tell your big sister Lottie, hm?"

"N-Nothing!" Elliot yelled, far, _far_ too defensively. "Why the hell are you a-asking me that?! H-He's just a friend…"

Oz and Lottie, both silencing instantly, shot each other a concerned gaze, before their vision darted back to Elliot, sulkily picking at his food once again. They both knew exactly what each other were thinking: he was the epitome of denial. Sure, forcing it out of him probably wasn't the best option, but even a blind person could tell conclusively that _something_ about the situation was bothering him. And really, they wanted to help, even if it was for their own goddamn satisfaction.

"Tch, why are you two staring at me…?" Elliot scoffed, his tough-guy façade of repudiation faltering.

Glancing back at Lottie, Oz gave her another sigh of defeat. Restlessly, he fiddled with his hands in his lap for a moment, an awkward expression forming over his features as he lifted his line of view back up to Elliot. Gingerly but sincerely, he began to speak. "Elliot, I think we… well-"

Before he could even get one sentence out, Lottie cut him off, her sharp eyes narrowing at Elliot. "Alright Elliot, cut the crap. Oz and I _know_ you have a little _thing_ for Leo~"

Elliot wanted to kick something. _Especially_ when he felt his face involuntarily darken with a deep blush. "Look, I-I don't know what you two _think_ you know but you're _wrong_! T-There's… t-there's nothing bothering me, I _don't_ have a thing for Leo, and I'm not… I'm _not_ gay! So cut the crap, because I'm not interested in you two thinking you understand everything I feel! You have no _idea_ what goes on in my head! B-Because… i-if you did…" he paused, sucking in a breath and lowering his voice. "… t-then you wouldn't be… saying everything you do."

Oz and Lottie silenced promptly.

"Well don't just stare at me and say _nothing_ , jeez…"

"We just…" Oz stammered, flapping his hands around frantically. "We want to help you! If there's something bothering you, that is… I just want you to know that we're here for you. I-If you need it."

"Well I _don't_ ," Elliot said, his tone stern as if to further validate his point which, clearly, no one was getting. Still, he hadn't stopped blushing. "Y-You seem to be forgetting that Leo is a _guy_ … and even if he means a lot to me as a friend… I'm not gay!"

"Hmm, maybe that's why he's getting so defensive, hm~?" Lottie suggested teasingly, but with an edge of genuineness. "Are you sure about that, Elliot~? Tell us, when was the last time you liked a girl?"

"S-Shut up!" Elliot yelped. Defensively, as usual. _Too_ defensively. "That means nothing!"

Lottie grinned. "But can you answer it~?"

"Tch, I'm done here," Elliot scoffed, aggressively picking up his bag from the floor.

"Elliot, please! Talk to us about this!" Oz called after him as he stood up, tugging on the sleeve of his blazer. "I'm sorry if we upset you! I know you're missing Leo right now but please just talk to us! We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong!"

"I don't need your help," Elliot spat bitterly at him, yanking his arm away from the other's grip. And, without a second glance, he stormed off.

He didn't even know where he was going. He just needed to _walk away_ , because really, Elliot was not ready to have _that_ conversation yet.

* * *

Six hours on, and all he could think about – no matter how much studying he did as a futile attempt to distract himself – was why the _hell_ he'd gotten so defensive. And, really, deep down in his conscience where he rarely dared to visit, he could only think of one explanation.

Perhaps they were right.

It was an awful thought: one which sent butterflies to his stomach with the nauseating feeling of anxiety to accompany it. But it was an incessant thought: one which concerned him with how much it wouldn't leave him, and not thinking about it was proving to be more difficult than he initially thought. He'd really tried, though, locking his bedroom door, pulling out some work, and plugging in headphones to drown his thoughts.

Nothing could silence the ceaseless, persistent, nagging thoughts which dominated his conscious mind.

One distraction _could_ have been the music, but when one song in particular began, which Elliot didn't even recognise, that plan would soon fail. Confused, he listened intently to the music for the first few seconds. It wasn't really music – at best, it could be described at _sounds_. But something about them, like a nostalgic aura to the tender notes of a piano playing lightly in the background, made him stop writing for a moment. Then the verse began, the piano music dropping a few octaves to a gentle melody.

Elliot really didn't listen to music like this, and he _definitely_ hadn't listened to _this_ before, but there was something… something inexplainable, which made it irresistible; _impossible_ to skip, or turn off.

Then, the lyrics started.

 _'_ _When I was in the third grade, I thought that I was gay, 'cuz I could draw, my uncle was, and I kept my room straight'_

Well he was _not_ in the least bit ready for _that._

There was no reason – no _valid_ reason _whatsoever_ – why his pen should have stopped, or why he was totally zoned out by the foreign yet far too familiar lyrics. However, that didn't take away from the fact that his pen _had_ stopped, and his attention _had_ drifted away from his work.

Familiar. He'd heard this somewhere before. It was sickeningly familiar, bringing back memories he'd tried so hard to forget; obviously to no avail.

 _"_ _I think it's because Leo told him to stay away…"_

 _"_ _We want to help you! If there's something bothering you, that is… I just want you to know that we're here for you."_

 _"_ _We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong!"_

 _"_ _I-If you need it."_

And then it hit him. Oz really had been sincere when he'd been talking about all that. Still teasing and playful, of course, but there was also sincerity woven into his voice. So woven into it that Elliot hadn't noticed it.

With Oz's "jokes" still ringing in his ears, Elliot had no choice but to face up to _those_ thoughts.

So what _if_ – not that he was saying it was fated and already decided by the entire fucking universe and it couldn't be changed and it was set in stone and that was it – but what _if_ he was gay. What if they were right? What then?

Shame. Disgust. Self-hate.

… those probably weren't the best things to start with.

But when _was_ the last time he liked a girl? That was something he genuinely… couldn't answer. Because the answer was _never_. Even amongst his earliest memories, he had no recollection whatsoever of feeling any kind of attraction to another girl. Never.

Surely, though, that didn't mean _everything._ No, there had to be something else. Just because you'd had no interest or attraction to the opposite sex whatsoever didn't mean that you were automatically gay. That wasn't how it _worked_.

Wasn't it?

Elliot didn't know, however he knew – really, he did know, he was just in denial – that there _were_ other things. Those _other things_ just so happened to be the intense feelings of rejection and disappointment felt when Leo had left him.

Yes, Leo. The noirette he'd met less than 3 weeks ago who somehow managed to intensify every single goddamn emotion he ever felt.

Leo who… also happened to be a guy.

Even at the thought of him, the mere _thought,_ Elliot could feel the same, strengthened emotions flooding back to his conscious – as well as the irrefutable tightness which had magically appeared in his pants. Now of all times, of course.

His breathing increased. The blush which had also magically appeared on his face deepened. His palms, one still wrapped tightly around the pen, were clammy.

There was no way he was…

It was a mistake. Yes, a mistake. Elliot was content with that. A coincidence at best. An unlucky coincidence which possessed and captivated his thoughts and pressed at his conscience repeatedly, day after day, polluting his mind with ugly thoughts that _just could not be true._ It was…

True. Of course they fucking were.

He was just going around and around in circles at this point. He wasn't stupid. Just in denial.

But how could you blame him? His parents were explicitly _intolerant_ to homosexuality. So were his siblings. God forbid if they ever found out, for it would be the end of him. Why? Because their youngest son, their baby, their boy, their prized son who was supposed to have enough pride to be the last to hold up the family name and reputation for as long as he lived. The son who was meant to get married to another upper-class _female_ from some random aristocracy and pass on their family name to future generations. But their son wasn't going to do any of that anymore, because their son was…

Gay. He was gay.

Almost hyperventilating after that extremely tiring thought process, Elliot lifted a hand to his face, concealing the look of utter horror and confusion and self-hate from the rest of the world. The song had just finished.

And he didn't know _what_ to do.

 _There's…_

 _I can't… hide from the truth anymore…_

If it were possible to crawl into a hole and just die, right there, Elliot would have taken up the opportunity in a heartbeat. Because his newly discovered self-revelation was not something he wanted to deal with. Or even accept, regardless of how true he knew it to be.

It was fact. Elliot Nightray – the successful, prideful, and earnest child of an aristocracy – was gay.

 _So much for pride…_

Suddenly, he was yanked from the thoughts which he'd buried himself in by a knock on the door; he'd never been _this_ overly hypersensitive before now.

Then, his sister – Vanessa – called in with another couple of knocks, her sharp tone doing nothing to slow the panicked pace of his… everything. "Elliot? Why is your door locked? Come to the dining room now, dinner's ready."

"I-I'm just coming," Elliot managed to force himself out of his trance, returning his words to a barely casual level of shakiness, just praying his sister wouldn't pick up on any of the paralinguistic cues that he was royally screwed. The moment he stood up, however, the bulge in his pants suddenly came to the front of his mental priority list. Clearly, focusing so hard on _that_ hadn't helped. "Just… l-let me go to the bathroom first."

The dissipating echo of his sister's footsteps told him fairly conclusively that she was no longer listening in, as he sauntered into the on-suite bathroom and slammed the door behind him, the permanent scowl on his face even more bitter than usual, probably due to his excessive and unwanted blushing. Calming down just marginally, he locked the door slightly quieter.

It wasn't fun, it wasn't enjoyable, it wasn't clean, it wasn't nice, it was just embarrassing. But if Elliot was going to go downstairs to eat with his family _presentably,_ it had to be done.

Trying desperately to will away the blush from his face caused by _those_ thoughts nagging incessantly at him from forefront of his consciousness, Elliot saw no other option. He had to get this off his mind somehow. He had to tell someone.

In the heat of the moment, he stormed over to his desk, picked up his phone, and pulled up the 'new message' option for Oz's contact.

 ** _[To Oz, 19:05]  
_** _I think you were right._

Elliot didn't notice the spam of replies as he traipsed back across the lower level of his bedroom towards the door and out into the corridor.

 ** _[From Oz, 19:05]  
_** _Huh?_

 ** _[From Oz, 19:06]  
_** _Elliot?_

 ** _[From Oz, 19:06]  
_** _What are you talking about?_

 ** _[From Oz, 19:06]  
_** _Hey!_

 ** _[From Oz, 19:06]  
_** _Wait…_

 ** _[From Oz, 19:06]  
_** _Elliot…_

 ** _[From Oz, 19:07]  
_** _Don't tell me you've just come out…_

* * *

His hands were trembling and sweaty. He was shaking and he _knew_ he was shaking. His ears felt hollow; everything felt so numb and yet so painful. And his hypersensitivity was well and truly in its prime.

Why the _hell_ did he _ever_ think to tell that _doofus_ Oz?!

In his defence, it was the best option. Really, it was. Telling his family was unthinkable, and telling Leo was entirely off-limits, no questions asked. And that, unfortunately, left Oz. It also left Elliot questioning his standards.

 _Tch, some standards I have…_ Elliot scoffed at himself mentally, wiping the scowl off his face as he pushed the door open to the dining room.

He was the last one to arrive, but that was no surprise. He didn't expect his brother and sister and father had to do what _he'd_ just done in order to sit down for a bloody meal. They _clearly_ had higher standards than him.

His oldest siblings were Claude and Fred, who'd both left home a while ago to pursue their high-end, successful careers in medicine. Just a bit younger than them were Gilbert and Vincent, who – as mentioned previously – had moved out and worked as teachers. At Elliot's school, that was; apparently the pay was good. So, to summarise, none of them were there, which only left Ernest, who was 19 and studying Business at a nearby university, and Vanessa, who was 17.

"Elly, why are you late?" Ernest asked, serving himself a plate of food from the exquisite selection lined along the centre of the table.

Elliot, internally drawing in a deep breath to cool himself once again, sat down reluctantly in the last remaining seat, next to his father and opposite Vanessa. "I was just… finishing the question I was on, and then… going to the bathroom."

Vanessa knotted her eyebrows at her elder brother, muttering under her breath. "I did inform you of that 3 minutes ago…"

"You two, please," Their father promptly cut off their inchoate argument. Silently, he cut up some of the food on his place, glaring at Elliot in the corner of his vision and gesturing for him to eat something. Intimidated, Elliot hastily sat up, and did exactly that. "So, Vanessa. Tell me, how was your day?"

"It was okay, father," she answered, irritated. "Although, I must say, some of the girls in my Maths school do not belong at such a prestigious academy… all they do is talk about their boyfriends."

Unlike Elliot, Vanessa didn't go to Lutwidge Academy. Instead, she attended an all-girls private school, which was slightly further away from where Elliot's was, and studied Maths, Law, History and Latin. She was upfront, opinionated, and downright obnoxious sometimes. Whatever she said, or thought, was _always_ right in her eyes. Elliot begged to differ most of the time, however her conformational personality meant that, sometimes, it just wasn't worth it.

From beside her, Ernest sneered, as he sipped on the drink. "Can't be as bad the gay couple who constantly make out at the back of the lecture theatre…"

At that, a look of utter disgust twisted onto Vanessa's features, their father stopped eating for a moment, and Elliot attempted to remain casual – in actuality, his blood ran _cold_ , and his senses doubled in efficacy.

"I suppose you're right, that _is_ worse," Vanessa scowled. "Some people just lack consideration well."

"Yes, well, whilst I agree _entirely,_ you must be careful with such opinions," their father said. "Soon they will realise that homosexuality does not exist; same sex love never existed and should have never been legalised. I hope all of you will carry on the family though, regardless."

Elliot was sure he visibly flinched; that hurt.

"Elliot?" _Shit shit shit shit please don't ask me-_ "What do you think?" Vanessa interrogated. _Fuck._

"Well…" he stuttered, picking at his food. His grip on the fork tightened in sublimation for his urge to throw it at them. Or cry. Crying worked too. He hated feeling like this, but the fact was he _did_. "G-Going back to Ernest's point, surely it's your own fault for _watching_ them."

"Hmph, not really," Ernest said, averting his gaze from Elliot. "They're only after the attention-"

"Elliot why are you defending homosexuals?" Vanessa cut him off brusquely.

Giving into his sister's sharp, almost aggressive stare, Elliot shrank back into his chair. "… nothing."

The rest of the dinner proceeded, being consumed by an awkward silence, spare the clanking of forks against china plates. It took mental and emotional strain for Elliot _not_ to flip out at them; so _what_ that people are gay? Why should it matter?

It shouldn't. It _didn't_ to him. But every single one of the people he was sitting nearby strongly disagreed.

The very second he finished eating, Elliot didn't hesitate for a single moment in leaving, placing the knife and fork lined up neatly on the plate and pushing it aside. Then, without even asking, he stood up, tucking the chair under the table and silently hoping to go unnoticed.

"Elliot?" His father piped up, raising an eyebrow suspiciously at him. "Where might you be going?"

 _Idiot. Of course you weren't going to get away with that._ "I, uh… sorry, I have a lot of homework to do."

"Very well," the other granted. "But watch your manners, boy. Next time you will _ask_ before getting up."

"Y-Yes father…" Elliot stammered, lowering his head before hurriedly making his way to the door.

As if the door to the corridor clicking shut was his cue, as soon as he was out of their hearing range, Elliot's façade crumbled, and he was only a few seconds from letting all his emotional barriers down completely.

He really hoped he was just being paranoid. He really did. Perhaps he'd just gotten the wrong idea, and one day – not today, or even soon – but one day, he'd be able to come out to them.

But no. Not anymore. They were blatantly, explicitly, bluntly, _disgustingly_ homophobic, and just downright unaccepting of homosexuals.

His heart didn't stop racing all the way until he reached his room, locking himself away along with a false sense of security. Well, at least he was alone.

Yes, alone. With his thoughts.

Real safe, of course.

Kicking the first piece of furniture he saw, Elliot couldn't help but bury his face in his arms, face-planting the wall. Words could not convey how lost in his own mind he felt. Betrayed by his own self, even.

His attention was abruptly captivated by a _ping_ from his phone, which jolted him just as much as the realisation that he'd told _Oz_ struck him like lightening. Cautiously, he proceeded to the desk where he'd left it, picking it up and reading through the spam of messages. Oz must've replied the moment he initially sent the message.

As much as he hated to admit it, Oz wasn't a total idiot; Elliot saw no point in denying it any longer.

 ** _[To Oz, 19:22]  
_** _Yeah, I guess I did_

The reply came in less than a minute.

 ** _[From Oz, 19:22]  
_** _OMG_

 _Great. You've really fucked yourself over now._

Elliot facepalmed, burying one hand to his hair and climbing the stairs to the second level of his bedroom where his bed was, situated above the bathroom. With an overly exasperated exhale, he collapsed on his front onto the bed, the mattress responding with an audible _thump_.

What if Oz hated him for it? Really, he _could_ have only been joking. He came from an aristocrat family too, right?

God, what was he _thinking?_

Finally working up the courage to lift his face, donning an expression of shame, from the pillow. There was no hope in distracting himself, and all Elliot did to stir those thoughts of doubt was google "how to come out" to wallow and regret all the things he did _wrong_.

However, only a few seconds later, he was distracted yet _again_ – probably a good thing, or possibly not – by a knock at his window. Curious, Elliot languidly lifted his head, eyes widening the moment it registered in his brain that, currently, Oz was outside his window, perching on the ledge.

" _Oz_!" Elliot hissed, remembering with a sigh that Oz _was_ his neighbour and that it didn't take more than a minute to make it across both estates. And up to Elliot's bedroom window, it seemed. Or perhaps he was just extremely eager.

Eager to mock him. Of course.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Elliot yelped, unlocking the window and letting it swing open, before restlessly pacing back and forth. But when Oz's mouth dropped open to answer, Elliot changed his mind; he _didn't_ want to know. And so, aggressively, right before the blonde uttered his first word, he cut him off to continue. "N-Never mind! Don't answer that, because I know why you're here, hah? Y-You're disgusted at me, a-and appalled, and if you want to walk out of here and never speak to me again then go ahead because I'd… I-I'd understand if you did!" His rant faded off slightly. "B-But… I'm not going to _apologise_ because it's not my f-"

"Hey! Elliot!" Oz shouted over him, flapping his arms around and attempting to shush him.

Elliot tried to draw in a deep calming breath, albeit failed. "Tch, w-what?"

Wordlessly, Oz took two steps forwards. Two steps forward which, before Elliot could noticed, successfully closed the gap between them. Without a moment of hesitation, Oz wrapped both arms tightly around Elliot's waist, an earnest sparkle of sympathy in his bold green eyes staring up at the other's expression of pure shock for a moment before averting to the adjacent wall.

The more he sunk into the embrace, the more Elliot could feel his emotional walls begin to falter. "Oi, s-shorty. What are you doing?"

When he opened his mouth, Elliot really did try to sound tough, but the emotion-driven crack in his voice shattered that façade.

Oz smiled warmly into his shirt, and proceeded to respond in the softest, most genuine tone he'd even spoken in. "You don't need to apologise for who you are, Elliot. There's nothing wrong with it."

That was the last straw for Elliot, before his barriers broke once and for all.

Already feeling tears brimming in his eyes and escaping his eyelids, totally out of his control, Elliot hastily slipped out of Oz's hold, pulling away and retreating a few steps. His back turned to Oz, one hand instantly flew up to his face, the other hugging his own waist. Like a shield, really. All he could do was shield himself, and that included the hand planted over his eyes to conceal the tears trailing down his face.

He sniffed, shaking his head as if Oz's stares of concern were invalid. Weak, pathetic, _wretched:_ that's what he felt.

That's what he was.

Meanwhile, only a few feet away from him with both arms still held open wide was Oz, standing and wondering what to do. It was inherently obvious that Elliot was really, _really_ upset. And, clearly, this was the result of everything which had been repressed and bottled up for so long all being released.

If their lives were a sitcom, this would _certainly_ be a cue for a chorus of sympathetic sighs from the studio audience.

Then, after over two minutes of sobbing uncontrollably to himself, Elliot finally plucked up enough courage to do _something_. With tears still burning in his eyes, and slipping down his cheeks behind the safeguard of his hand, he subtly shuffled back a few steps, settling on the end of his bed. Turning his gaze to the wall, and wiping some of tear-stains from his face, Elliot confessed weakly, "Sorry… I'm just… really hypersensitive right now. I… I know it's pathetic."

"Argh, stop self-pitying yourself!" Oz said, frustration evident in his tone. Noting that his rash words probably hadn't helped the other, Oz adopted more delicacy when he perched on the bed beside Elliot, and began to rub light but comforting, reassuring circles on his back. "Erm… did something happen?"

Elliot, still having to bite back the tears stinging in his eyelids, tried to keep his voice together as he admitted, "Earlier, at dinner… a-after everything that'd happened… my father, and siblings were all, just… talking and talking about how disgusting _it_ was." He sucked in a deep breath, tilting his head upwards and staring at the ceiling, his tear-glazed eyes glinting in the light. After a short pause, he sniffed again, and continued. "I'm supposed to have pride, so I can't… I can never tell them. I'm just… a mess."

Oz had known Elliot for a long, _long_ time. Since he was born, to be precise; births among aristocracies – especially of males – was always big news. They'd always been to the same parties, even if their families did share a history. They'd always been neighbours, and they'd always attended the same school.

And in all those years Oz had spent with Elliot, he'd never, _ever_ witnessed him lose his composure to such extent. He'd never seen him this _upset_ , and just… broken.

How long had he fought back, and ignored the existence of those thoughts, and doubts?

Too long, undoubtedly.

"Elliot… you are no less of who you are because of this. Your pride for your identity is… still as honourable as it always has been to me…" Oz said firmly. "Your pride isn't damaged by something so… trivial. And so what if your family reject you? Because you still have friends who love and care about you… and, hehe… Elliot will only ever be as _'Elliot'_ as he chooses to be."

Whatever it was about what Oz had just said only turned on the faucet of his eyes once again, tears burning his eye sockets, his dark lashes clumping together as he tried to wipe away the wetness from his eyes. Then, regretfully, Elliot laughed, almost, shaking his head to his tragic self. "Wow, I really am just… a mess…" He sniffed again. "I can't even imagine if… you know, _Leo_ … saw me right now, like… _this_."

"You really do like him, don't you?"

Elliot bit down on his lower lip, nodding tentatively in response. "Yeah… I do. And it's… only been… three weeks, which is just… stupid."

"Just do what your heart tells you, no matter how cringey that sounds!" Oz said, puffing out his chest. Then, he chuckled, standing up from the bed and re-opening the window. "I have to go now, Oscar… doesn't know I'm gone, hehe…" There was a small pause of silence. "Just don't rush things, okay, Elliot?"

"Y-You got it," Elliot stuttered, trying to play it cool. "And… you need to keep this a secret between _us_. Or I'll… I don't know _what_ I'll do, but…"

"Of course I will, Elliot," Oz winked, readying himself from the decent from the second-floor balcony just below them, the nightly breeze brushing through his hair. "Goodnight!"

The tear stains still a painful reminder of his true emotional capacity, Elliot hesitantly stood up, glancing up at the star-scattered sky. With his emotional burdens temporarily relieved, one single thought of hope was finally allocated the freedom to cross his conscious mind.

 _A secret between us, huh…_

 _I suppose that's… just about okay…_

* * *

 ** _(A/Ns: Thank you for reading! Unfortunately, in exactly 27 days, I have the first of my very important series of exams. I will not abandon this fic; it will just not be on the top of my priority list, but i will try to share a new chapter with you guys as soon as i can)_**


	7. Chapter 7

_**(A/Ns: sorry for the stupid amount of time it took me to update. i have done with exams now, thankfully. Also, the practical at the start is in A Level Chemistry. Leo in that scene really reminds me of when me and my friend did the same practical the first time :"]**_

 _ **Please drop a review if you get the time! :D**_

 _ **Content warnings: smoking, swearing, mentions of drugs/prescription drug abuse**_

 _ **Disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

It took Leo exactly 3 days to return to normal, which was convenient, as it also took exactly 3 days for Elliot to get back approximately half of his composure.

Fortunately, Oz had stuck to his promise, and hadn't brought up the incident last Thursday. Being chased into school on the Friday morning by Lottie hadn't helped his incessant paranoia, but Oz easily distracted her. Sometimes, Elliot really didn't appreciate him enough.

His words stuck with him, as well, and – no matter how painful it was to even _look_ at a still-grumpy Leo – he made it through that day, nonetheless. And the weekend, too. But that was purely down to the fact he downright avoided every single one of his family members with the excuse of revision.

Yes, revision: revision for the exams that were six months away. Very believable, of course.

The first lesson they had on Monday morning was Chemistry, during which it became inherently obvious that Leo was back to his old self again. They'd just began a new module, meaning it was one of the few times that Break allowed them to do a practical; all Elliot had learnt was that, when given chemicals, Leo had the mentality of a 5-year-old.

"Hey, Elliot. Tell me what this smells like."

Before Elliot could even blink and respond appropriately, the rim of a glass test tube was abruptly thrusted up to just beneath his nose. He grimaced.

"Sulphuric acid."

"Really?" Leo raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, bringing the test tube containing the mystery substance back to his nose, giving it another tentative sniff and visibly supressing a gag reflex. "It definitely doesn't smell like pineapple."

"What did you put in it?" Elliot asked, staring at the other with a blank expression.

"Ethanol and propanoic acid," Leo answered, but held his breath before the end of the sentence like he had more to say. "And a lot of sulphuric acid."

Elliot rolled his eyes and muttered a sarcastic remark under his breath. "I wonder why it _doesn't_ smell like pineapple then…"

Leo gave the mixture another sniff. "I can't smell _that_ much acid."

"I doubt you have much of a sense of smell," Elliot shot back caustically, instantly regretting it the moment the comment slipped out. "N-Not to be rude, or anything…"

Luckily, Leo didn't seem particularly bothered, placing the test tube with delicate fingers in the rack along with the other failed esters before wandering away again, and Elliot didn't let go of the breath he was holding until he stopped staring at the other and his every move.

After another 15 minutes of failing to do anything right, their attempts were brought to a close, Break promptly instructing everyone to return to their seats and be quiet. Once everyone had done exactly that, he spoke.

"Since you _all_ seem to have failed that, albeit I don't know how," Break snickered, sliding onto his chair at the front of the classroom. Despite the fact he side-glanced at Elliot for most of the time he was speaking, the amusement woven into his words implied they weren't the only ones who had messed up something so simple. "It's time for a group project~!"

The chorus of overly exasperated moans from each student only provided him with more motivation to give them the extra homework.

"Work with your partners. I expect it handed in to me by this time next week, in the form of a research paper," he said. "Find out the formula, structure, reaction conditions, and uses of, let's say… 3 esters. I want at least a page and a half on each to make up for your incompetency today." Break paused for a moment, adjusting his glasses, watching the clock in the corner of the room, and then giving a dismissive flick of his left wrist the second the bell rang. "You are dismissed."

Instinctively, Elliot followed Leo as he proceeded out the classroom and in the opposite direction to the flow of students all streaming from the other classrooms. No one even noticed them wandering up to the prohibited staircase to the roof; this was something Elliot had slowly become concerningly accustomed to.

"As usual, you would follow me up here," Leo muttered under his breath, as he stuck the already rolled cigarette between his lips and effortlessly picked the lock on the door to the roof. A smirk tugging at his lips, he added another comment. "What, did you want to experience me further tainting my sense of smell?"

 _Idiot. Of course he would remember that_. Elliot mentally facepalmed. "Tch, it's just…"

"Something you do now, naturally. I get it," Leo chuckled, lighting the cigarette with his back to the wind. "It's nice to see I've become such a prevalent part of your life."

"Sure…" Elliot murmured, suppressing the instinct to agree. He was right, after all. "So when are we doing this project?"

"Hm, today?" Leo proposed as he brought the cigarette up to his lips for another brief hit of nicotine. "I'd rather get it done now so I don't have to spend any more time than I need with you."

"Oi, watch it."

"I'm _joking_ , Elliot," Leo grinned. "You're… bearable." Another teasing smile.

"I'm flattered," Elliot said dryly in response. "Your house or mine?"

"Woah, it's a bit soon for _that_ , do you not think?"

"I don't mean that, Jesus! Get your head _out_ of your pants!" Elliot yelped, smacking a hand on his face to swiftly conceal the blush and slap that thought straight out of his mind before it even got there. "I _mean_ for the project"

"Ah, right. Mine, then. I don't want to meet your snobby parents," Leo declared, flicking the finished cigarette aside and leaving it alight in the corner of the roof.

Elliot took it upon himself to extinguish it, though reluctantly. "Yeah, you really don't. They're… hm…"

"Presumptuous? Arrogant? Know-it-all?"

"Uh, yeah… let's go with that then."

"Funny," Leo said humorously. "A bit like you, then."

* * *

The day went quicker than he'd expected, perhaps because going to the specimen which was Leo's house wasn't very exciting for Elliot. Granted, the last time he was there, the only thing he really looked at was his friend and newly-realised crush puking in a sink.

Within a second of leaving the school and turning away from where the main flock of people were, Leo had lit the cigarette, already rolled from the last lesson of the day, during which Elliot had to bite back any of the impending comments. Thus, the first 5 minutes of the walk, guided by Leo, proceeded in total silence, Elliot remembering to text his sister (she'd communicate to his father, he hoped) that he was staying out late. Being as presumptuous as they were – and as he was as well, apparently – they would just assume another aristocrat. Elliot was _usually_ predictable.

After another 5 minutes of awkward silence, Elliot decided to initiate a conversation.

"So… what does your mother do?"

"Retail," Leo answered dryly, sticking his hands into his pockets. It was discreet, but at the mention of his mother, a look of disapproval gradually morphed into his expression. "I don't know where. I don't care. We're just poor because of it."

"I'm… sure she's trying."

Leo snorted derisively. "Hardly."

As they continued walking, warped by another silence, Elliot couldn't help but grow concerned that his mother might be awful. Sure, Leo's perception of things was certainly an interesting one, but he really didn't seem to like her, and right now, Elliot wasn't particularly keen to meet her.

"So," Leo muttered, disinterest blunt in his words. "What do your parents do? Accounting?"

"Uh, no…" Elliot answered hesitantly. "They… own a private health insurance company. My… older brothers work in medicine as well, and… my other brother studies Business at university."

"Mhm, right." He was still just as disinterested, and that led them into another silence.

The rest of the walk to Leo's house proceeded with very little verbal communication, idle conversation occasionally sparking up and dying fairly quickly. About 5 minutes before they reached Leo's house (Elliot remembered exactly where they were, in a non-creepy way), to not much of a surprise, Leo was instinctively rolling and lighting another cigarette, during which Elliot had to fight back anything he wanted to say, yet again.

What he _wasn't_ aware of was that he replaced the comments with unconscious, interrogative staring.

"Do you have something to say?" Leo said, slightly put off but mostly unfazed by the other's seemingly expectant gawking, as he took the first drag from the cigarette and flicked the ash aside. He didn't bother looking at Elliot, already knowing exactly what the expression of fake-surprise would look like.

"Uh, no…"

"I'm not stupid," Leo rolled his eyes, shoving the other hand in his pocket and glancing down at the cigarette for a moment before fixing his focus back on the horizon. "Go on, hit me with all the crap you wanted to ask on that magical day we first met, but were too scared to in fear that I'd rip your face off."

"I'm not scared of you," Elliot lied, and they both knew he was lying. But he still did it anyway, probably out of some weird, subconscious urge to preserve what very little was left of his masculinity. In his eyes, at least. "I guess it's just sort of like… _why_?"

"That's a very open question you know, Elliot."

"I know, but…" Elliot tried to give an explanation, albeit it failed.

"Are you familiar with what a 'habit' is?" Leo questioned, cutting off the other's hopeless trail of words.

"Well, of course!"

Leo blinked twice, taking a drag from the cigarette whilst staring expectantly at Elliot. "… go on."

"Surely it's just… something you're used to doing, which has become engrained into your routine." As he finished speaking, it suddenly hit him that his initial question had become redundant.

"And how is this different?" Leo suggested, smirking discreetly. He knew full well he was provoking the other, and the cluelessness evident on his face only made it funnier. "An addiction is just a habit which you have to break physically too."

"I guess… that's true…" Elliot said in defeat, sighing internally when he glanced up and saw Leo's house just ahead. "But… I was more asking about _you_ specifically."

"Oh." Leo paused, saying no more as the two walked up to his porch. Wordlessly, he bent down on one knee, extinguishing the cigarette in the ashtray before pulling out his keys. As he unlocked the door, he finally responded to Elliot's previous comment, as if he'd only just remembered they were in a conversation. "Well that's a topic for another time."

The aura of mystery woven into in his words gave off the impression that it probably wasn't something Elliot should start interrogating him on.

The house was just as he'd remembered it. Reels of wallpaper seemed to be peeling away from the plasterboard of the walls in every corner, giving the entire hallway a discreet but noticeable background odour of rotting materials, which mixed in coincidently well with the stale stench of cigarette smoke – similar to the one which clung to Leo. Furniture wise, it was minimal, the only thing being a small cabinet tucked away in the corner of the hall besides the door.

There was one thing that caught Elliot's attention, nevertheless, and that was a row of photos along the top of the cabinet. One in particular, at that, which was a picture of Leo. But not just Leo; there were two others. One of them was a young woman, with brown hair tied up neatly. The other was, presumably, Leo's father – well built and the total opposite of Leo. Despite that, their facial features were still hauntingly similar. And Leo was smiling. Smiling boldly. Albeit, he only seemed to be about eight in the photo. Clearly, those days were gone.

He wondered briefly why Leo had never mentioned his father, but before any suspicions could spiral out of control, Leo halted him, picking up the photo and placing it face down without a single word.

"Come on," he prompted nonchalantly, ignoring the brewing awkwardness between them. "Go upstairs. Did you want anything?"

Elliot almost tripped over Leo's bag, as he watched him wandering off to what he remembered to be the kitchen. "Um, no thanks…"

"Good, you weren't getting anything anyway."

With that, Leo left. Elliot almost tripped over the bottom step as well, worried he'd tried to push some boundaries by staring at that photo. There was no way he could've known that was a sore topic. Perhaps it wasn't even his father. Maybe his father had left, or even died, but Leo didn't seem like the type of person who'd lost a family member. Really, Elliot had no clue; he didn't want to jump to conclusions either, however, assuming the worst couldn't be good for either of them.

Once he got to the top of the stairs, Elliot only briefly remembered which of the 4 doors was Leo's room. And once he entered it, he only _then_ got a realistic glimpse of the mess Leo apparently lived in.

Books. There were lots of books. Besides a bed, beside table, window, wardrobe, and desk, there wasn't much else other than books. The entire adjacent wall was completely covered in ceiling-high book shelves. The floor was covered in books. And somehow, Leo lived in that dump.

"Step on any of those books and I'll kill you," Leo threatened, barging past the clueless Elliot stood in the middle of his room to get to his desk. Once there, he proceeded to dump a pile of sugary junk food in front of his laptop, sitting down as he did so. "Take a seat anywhere, I don't care where you go."

"Uh, right…" Elliot said, scanning his surroundings and considering his options – _limited_ options, at that. In the end, he went with the bed, watching Leo unwrap some of the food with a strange level of delicacy. It was only then that Elliot realised that he could not recall Leo eating at school even once.

"Hm…" Leo hummed idly, fiddling with the lollipop stick held between his teeth. "So, what did Break ask us to do again?"

"Tch, were you not listening?"

"No."

Elliot rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, as usual. "He asked for a mini research paper on the uses, reaction conditions – everything like that – for 3 esters; a page and a half for each."

"Hm, really?"

"Yes, _really_."

Leo knocked his head back, breathing out an exhausted sigh before peeling himself off the chair and wandering over to the bookshelves, scanning the countless rows of books. "I think I have a book on this somewhere."

"What a surprise…" Elliot said sarcastically. "What should we start with?"

Total silence was the only response Leo seemed willing to give at first, until he seemed to find what he was searching for, pulling out a large but only slightly tattered book. Unsurely, he examined it. "Hm… found it."

Unbeknownst to Elliot, a sly, discreet grin began to tug at his lips, and he wandered over to where Elliot was. Without the other even noticing, he dropped down onto the bed beside him, bringing his legs up to his chest before folding them in front of him and placing the book in his lap.

The very second his left thigh came into contact with his hip, Elliot freaked.

 _What the hell?!_ Elliot screeched internally, mustering up all his energy to stop the blood from rushing to his face, or, in the worst-case scenario, a more _sensitive,_ lower region. _Tch, he's doing this deliberately…_

With all that had happened not even a week ago, Elliot was _not_ ready to deal with this.

"Alright," Leo said, seemingly proud of himself. "I found one. Start making notes."

"S-Sure…" Elliot stammered. Carefully, he leaned to his left just slightly, away from Leo and reaching for his notepad.

When Leo didn't _get the goddamn hint_ and move, he mentally facepalmed; this would be a _long_ afternoon.

* * *

It only took them around two hours to get through two of the esters, which was admittedly faster than expected. Particularly when each of them had one single intention, of which neither were relevant to the task at hand. Yes, Leo's goal appeared to be teasing Elliot as much as possible, whilst Elliot's was trying with all his strength not to get a goddamn boner from Leo's incessant pestering. Fortunately, after discovering Leo typed at the speed of approximately one word a minute, Elliot had moved to the desk, saving himself the potential embarrassment of a certain _thing_ happening which he wasn't really willing to exercise the thought of.

It had only just passed 6pm, and Elliot knew he'd have to leave soon, particularly when his sister was _assuming_ he was probably only a 10-minute walk away from the school – not 40 minutes.

"What were the uses again?" he asked with a sigh, fairly certain this was the thousandth time he'd asked that.

"Shh…" Leo hushed. Currently, he was stretched across the bed on his stomach, scrolling on his phone, which was placed on top of the book. "I'm still finding the structure."

"… surely you already have that! I asked you to find it half an hour ago!" Elliot flipped. He didn't mean to, but this was getting frustrating now, and his phone was really running low on charge; with family like his, that was really not good.

"I would have it now if you didn't pick a stupid one to use that no one's heard of…" Leo muttered, totally dismissing Elliot's blatant annoyance.

"Fine… I-I'll just find it on-"

"No."

Being cut off mid-sentence wasn't really something Elliot appreciated. Leo seemed unfazed, however, the urgency to stop Elliot was really quite suspicious.

"Pardon?"

Wordlessly, Leo turned his head to face Elliot, glaring at him with an expression which promptly said _'you heard me'._ "Look at my browser, and I'll kill you."

"What the hell?!" Elliot yelped. The glare didn't leave. "Ugh, fine…"

Whatever Leo was so hellbent on hiding, he was certainly determined. And that only made Elliot more concerned. He felt like a total idiot; like he was missing something really obvious.

"Do you have a phone charger I can borrow then?" Elliot exhaled, trying to stir up an excuse he could face Vanessa's confrontation with later.

Once again, without speaking, Leo stood up, dropping his phone onto the bed and sauntering over to Elliot. A sidelong glance discreetly (but not unnoticeably) checking the tabs on his laptop, he opened one of the drawers in the side of his desk – just a crack – and pulled out a single cable. Handing it to Elliot and wandering back over to the bed, he said, "Use the plug on the floor. The laptop's been charging long enough now. I think."

"Right…" Elliot muttered tentatively, doing as he'd been told before returning to the work.

"Aha… found it."

"Finally…" Elliot groaned, rolling his eyes, as usual. Watching Leo draw out the structure on the notebook beside him, he couldn't help but chuckle internally. At himself. Because he should be annoyed. He should have lost his patience by now. But… he hadn't.

A second later, he was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when the notepad hit his arm; Leo had thrown it at him, _again_.

"You wanted the reaction conditions?" Leo said, lethargically sitting up and flicking through the book. Attention divided, he swiftly slipped the rolling paper and fresh tobacco out from his pocket, beginning to roll a cigarette with one hand.

Elliot was fairly certain he knew what was coming next. Hopefully, they'd at least finish what they were doing first. "Yeah."

"Right…" Leo hummed in thought, fully aware that Elliot was staring at him. Nevertheless, that didn't stop him. "Perfume. That's it. It smells like shit apparently."

"Of course…" Elliot grunted, typing out something more formal than Leo's delivery.

"You done?" Leo said a moment later, bringing the cigarette up to his lips to finish rolling it and then picking up the lighter on his bedside table.

"Hmm… almost…" Elliot hummed, only half engaged in the conversation until he was done. "Okay, we have… 3 and a bit pages for two out of three esters. So… we're nearly done."

"Good," Leo stood up, flicking the book shut and sticking the cigarette between his teeth. Waving the lighter at Elliot, he proceeded to the door. "I'm going out. Are you following?"

"Tch, fine."

Leo chuckled, shaking his head at Elliot as he slipped out of the door. "You're so predictable."

Elliot pretended not to hear that; it was painfully true, really.

Just before they reached the door, the two of them were halted, a seemingly confused voice calling from the kitchen. "Leo?"

"Oh great…" Leo grunted sarcastically, keeping his gaze fixed on the open kitchen door as he said. "That's my mother."

Instinctively, Elliot began to worry. Sure, he'd never met the woman, but if what he'd heard from Leo was to be believed, she wasn't someone he was particularly eager to meet.

The moment they made it to the kitchen, standing silently in the doorway, Elliot immediately recognised her as the woman from the photo. Much like Leo, in a way, she hadn't changed at all, brown hair tied back. However, behind the same coloured eyes was an aura of… pain, it seemed. As if she were struggling, in many ways, and had been for a long time. Possibly ever since that goddamn photo which Elliot just could not erase from his mind.

"What do you want?" Leo said, with more attitude held in his words than Elliot had ever seen him display before.

"Leo," she tried to say sternly, but the light tremble in her voice almost implied that she was… scared of him? "Take that cigarette out of your mouth when I'm speaking to you."

With an enormous, exaggerated sigh, Leo did as he was told, plucking the cigarette from his lips and gripping it in the same hand as the lighter.

Then, she turned to Elliot. And smiled. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name? Leo very rarely has people over."

 _She seems… polite…_ "Oh, uh, Elliot…" he introduced, responding with the same, slightly awkward smile. "Ah, sorry, I'd have assumed _someone_ would have told you I was coming over."

Leo pretended he didn't see Elliot glaring at him matter-of-factly.

"Yes, well… you can call me Emma," she said warmly, still smiling. And Elliot had yet to figure out what Leo's problem was with her. "As I said, it's very rare I even see Leo with anyone, really. I'm glad he's got a friend-"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Leo interrupted pointedly.

"Leo, _stop_ ," she said, her politeness faltering; Elliot could see she was trying, and began to feel… sympathy, really. "Anyway, I was going to ask Leo what he wanted for dinner, but you're welcome to stay as well."

"Oh, well…" Elliot stuttered. At first, he tried to look to Leo for a decision, but only found that the noirette had totally disengaged himself from the conversation. "I guess… we still have some of the work to do, so… yes, please. I'm not particularly fussy with food-"

"You don't need to be so polite," Leo rolled his eyes forcibly again, turning on his heel towards the front door. "It's only my mother, jeez."

"Oi, Leo!" Elliot called after him, shooting an apologetic glance to his mother – who seemed nothing short of unfazed – before chasing after Leo.

By the time he reached the porch, Leo had already lit up, and was leaning dependently on the wall, sulkily dragging on the cigarette.

"So… um, correct me if I'm wrong, but…" Elliot shifted slightly, pulling the door mostly shut. "What… exactly is your problem with your mother? She's polite, and-"

"Irritating," he added, clearly not impressed. Breathing in on the cigarette once again, he deliberately made a point out exhaling the smoke through parted lips, effectively flaunting his recalcitrance. "Always tells me what to do."

"I wonder why…" Elliot said quietly. "So, what time did you-"

"Leo!"

"Ugh, I'll be right back," Leo groaned in disgust at his mother's voice, taking another quick drag from the cigarette as he turned on his heel. Briskly, before stepping into the house, he extended the cigarette to Elliot. "Hold this for a moment."

Reluctantly, Elliot took the cigarette, holding it as far away from him as possible; if he came home with even a _trace_ of the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him, he'd never hear the end of it.

For the first part of Leo and his mother's discussion, all Elliot could hear was indecipherable murmurs. Nonetheless, the two both sounded on edge; his mother interrogative, and Leo just ignorant.

And then, three minutes later, Elliot still standing pointlessly on the porch hoping he wouldn't be seen, there was a sudden _smash_. Something had been broken – thrown, he guessed – with a _lot_ of force.

A moment after that, Leo returned, plucking the cigarette from Elliot's fingers and inhaling with a nonchalant expression.

Elliot cleared his throat once Leo's mother had stopped shouting after him. "So… what was that?"

"She pissed me off," Leo said with an edge of intolerance in his bitter voice. "And there was a glass there."

"Right…" Elliot's words trailed off shortly after he'd asked the question. Nothing productive would come out of confronting him.

Less than a minute later, Leo was done, sucking the life out of the cigarette and dropping it in the ashtray beside the door. He grabbed Elliot's shoulder, tugging him back into the house as he brought a finger up to his lips. "Shh. I'm not getting pulled aside again. Unless you want more glasses broken."

* * *

Whatever happened between Leo and his mother earlier hadn't been resolved. And it made it very, _very_ awkward for Elliot when they were called down for dinner, no more than an hour later.

Thankfully, they were so close to finishing the project, Elliot could almost certainly get away afterwards. First, unfortunately, he had to get through dinner.

Leo hadn't said a word when they got down there. Instead, he'd simply rolled his eyes at Elliot at the sight of his mother. Elliot really didn't see the problem; she was just standing at the sink, in total silence. Clearly, Leo still didn't approve of that.

Breaking the prolonged silence, Elliot audibly cleared his throat, sipping tentatively from the glass of water beside his plate. "Um, thank you for the meal. It was, uh, really good."

After a short pause, she turned around, plastering on a fake smile. "Thank you. My husband was a chef. It's a real shame Leo doesn't appreciate my cooking a little more."

Wordlessly, the aura of condemnation intensifying, Leo slammed his glass onto the table at that comment. Then, forcefully shoving the barely touched plate of food towards the centre of the table, he stood up, kicking the chair underneath the table and storming out.

His mother didn't even stop him, and the expression of guilt and concern spread across her face really did make Elliot feel sympathetic. This was a common occurrence, evidently.

Nevertheless, he still followed Leo, smiling apologetically at her before thanking her for the meal once again and hurrying upstairs.

Sure enough, Leo was in his room, lying on his bed on his phone. But there was something different. He almost seemed to be…

Shaking?

No, that couldn't be right.

"Pack up your stuff. I presume you'll go now," he said sulkily, dropping the phone onto his sheet, as well as a pre-rolled cigarette. With an irascible sigh, he stood up, dragging a hand through his hair and proceeding to his door. "I'm going to the bathroom."

With that, he left, leaving Elliot alone in his room.

Hesitantly, he began doing as he were told, picking up their progress so far and his textbooks from the sea of books on the floor. The last thing he had to pick up was his phone, still plugged into Leo's charger. Miraculously, there were no missed calls or angry texts from his sister. Somehow.

Without thinking, Elliot unplugged the charger as well, trying to remember which one of the drawers it came from. Because, really, he couldn't bear to leave anymore mess in his room.

Maybe it was the top drawer? Admittedly, he couldn't really see why the drawer would have a lock on it, but nonetheless, it was unlocked.

The charger in his hand, without hesitation, he opened the top drawer.

Eyes locking on the contents, Elliot lost his grip on the cable. And froze.

 _This is…_

The drawer was relatively empty. In the front half. It wouldn't arise suspicion for someone simply checking.

It was the contents at the back of the drawer which sent a sickening feeling to the pit of Elliot's stomach. He never knew such little could be so significant.

He really shouldn't have been poking around. Really. But he'd seen it now.

Pills. A transparent bag of pills, each marked with either "40", or "OC". There were only 3 of them.

That wasn't it, though. They could've meant anything.

It was the syringes which made Elliot nearly throw up a little. Hypodermic needles. Two of them. Next to a spoon, and a lighter.

Dizziness overcame him.

 _It couldn't…_

 _What?_

Leo would be back any second. With the haunting image of his trembling hands trapping in Elliot's consciousness, he tried to shake off what he'd seen, as he shut the drawer inaudibly and placed the charger back on the desk, as if nothing had happened.

When Leo did return, Elliot was honestly astonished that he didn't notice the shell-shocked expression frozen onto his features.

"Are you ready to go?" the noirette asked.

Elliot was too zoned out to hear the first half of the sentence but gave a response anyway. "Er, yeah… my sister was calling me earlier."

"Heh, sorry for keeping you so late," Leo chuckled, picking the cigarette up with his lighter and leading Elliot downstairs. Once again, avoiding his mother, he clicked the door open as silently as possible, stepping out onto the porch before Elliot and cupping a hand over the tip of the cigarette. "Do you have anything?"

 _Not my sanity_ , Elliot answered mentally, biting his tongue. "I think so." _Walk away. Just walk away._ "I'll… see you tomorrow."

"And you," Leo waved him off with the hand holding the cigarette.

The hand that was no longer shaking?

Elliot's gaze didn't leave the road ahead, stolen by a trance, as he sauntered away from the house.

He tried to forget what he'd seen. Or brush it off as nothing.

He couldn't.

The sight of the needles, and the pills – hell, even the burst spoon – were too deep into Elliot's memories to be forgotten now.

Once he reached the next street, the overthinking began.

 _He can't… Leo can't be… using…_

 _…_ _right?_

* * *

 ** _(A/Ns: so... if don't know what OC is, you can either google it, PM me for an explanation which doesn't spoil, or you can wait till next chapter - till next time!)_**


	8. Chapter 8

**_(A/Ns: so I updated in less than a month which is… good for me right now, I guess? Anyway, this is my favourite chapter of the entire fanfic that I ever had planned, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed planning/writing it! You also see some detail on "OC", and Elliot coming out a second time ;^;_**

 ** _Please drop a review if you can! :D_**

 ** _Content warnings: mentions of prescription drug abuse, swearing, smoking, coming out, references to/mentions of drug withdrawal_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 _Oxycodone (also marketed as "OxyContin") is an opioid painkiller, most commonly prescribed for chronic pain. It is derived from opium poppies and refined from morphine. Due to the origins, the prescription drug is frequently compared to heroin, based on its pleasure-inducing effects and high risks of addiction for the user. The drug is normally prescribed; however, it can also be bought on the street illegally._

 _Users can become physically dependent on the drug after only a few months of use. Addiction occurs due to a number of reasons, such as emotional, socio-economic, biological, and situational factors. It is important if you, a family member, or friend, are possibly struggling with Oxycodone addiction, that you seek help immediately._

Elliot rubbed his eyes, glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table.

 _02:07_

He hated staying up this late; really, he did. But the sight of everything from only this evening was still too fresh in his mind for him to sleep. So far, all he'd accomplished was working out what "OC" meant.

It wasn't looking too good.

 _Physical signs of prescription opioid abuse in the suspected user can include:_

· _Scratching_

· _Track marks along arms_

· _Dilated pupils_

· _Bloodshot eyes_

· _Weight loss_

· _Tremors_

 _Behavioural signs of prescription opioid abuse can include:_

· _Frequent, regular disappearances_

· _Poor relationships with others_

· _Going to extreme lengths to hide certain things_

· _Poor eating habits_

· _Skipping meals_

· _Aggressive outbursts_

· _Fluctuating moods_

· _Poor academic achievement_

· _Lack of motivation for hobbies_

Mentally ticking off each bullet point as he read them really didn't do much to help Elliot's paranoia, but he couldn't help it. Apart from the last two behavioural signs, everything seemed to make sense. Perhaps he was just a "high-functioning addict", as Elliot had read about earlier.

So what _if_ Leo was using? Then what?

Detox?

 _Withdrawal symptoms of Oxycodone are dependent on how long the user has been using, as well as co-existing mental health disorders. Symptoms of withdrawal include but are not exclusive to:_

· _Anxiety_

· _Depression_

· _Suicidal thoughts/actions_

· _Runny nose/congestion_

· _Hypertension_

· _Lacrimation_

· _Nausea and vomiting_

· _Diarrhoea_

· _Tremors/chills_

· _Shaking_

· _Excessive sweating_

… perhaps not detox. Not immediately, at least.

Elliot was just freaking himself out more at this point. Nothing was even confirmed yet. Maybe there was another explanation. Maybe they weren't his.

 _Of course they were his, idiot,_ he facepalmed, slamming the phone face down on his bedside table.

Now that he knew this, how the _hell_ was he meant to act casual around the other? Acting as if nothing was bothering him was hard enough already, and that was without the secret drug addiction which he now knew about.

He felt guilty, as well. It was inherently obvious that he wasn't supposed to know about this. What if it wasn't even his fault? Elliot couldn't fathom what it must be like, to be controlled by something like that.

Now that he remembered, he should've paid more attention to what Leo was saying to him, when they were walking home earlier that day. His exact words only _now_ seemed like a cry for help.

 _"_ _Addiction is just a habit which you have to break physically."_

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, Elliot promptly passed out the second he closed his eyes.

* * *

As he'd predicted, acting normal around Leo was even harder for Elliot than when he'd figured out he liked him. Every scratch, every tremble of his hands, every routine disappearance – Elliot noticed it all. And it wasn't like he stopped feeling like he felt towards him, either. No, if anything it was worse; he was overcome by the urge to _help_ him and _talk_ to him.

But talking wasn't something he could do. Because he wasn't supposed to know about _it._

So, for nearly three days, Elliot sat in the dark about it, staying up until past the date changed each night to research the potential problem.

By Thursday, it must have been becoming obvious there was something wrong with him.

Sure, he was still _speaking_ to Leo. However, every disappearance was met with an excuse on Elliot's behalf. Revision, prefect meetings, errands to run for teachers – you name it, he'd used it to get away from him. It hurt him to avoid Leo, and that wasn't an exaggeration.

His self-restraint was slowly slipping away, in short, so when Break called him over at the end of their Chemistry lesson period 4 on Thursday, Elliot nearly wanted to cry with happiness. Even if he was in trouble, for some reason, it was better than lying to Leo again.

"Are… you gonna wait?" Elliot asked tentatively, swallowing thickly as he flung his bag over his shoulder and picked up the textbook. "I-I mean, it's Break, so I don't know how long it'll take."

"Nope, I'll leave," Leo declared, not even batting an eye to Elliot's uncharacteristic behaviour. Maybe he'd noticed; maybe he hadn't. Either way, he hadn't raised it as an issue, which was good, because Elliot wasn't sure his ability to remain silent would stretch that far. "You know where I'll be."

Wordlessly, Elliot nodded, watching the rest of the students file out of the classroom one by one, before turning his gaze back to Break. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes. In fact I did~" he chuckled, unwrapping another lollipop and gesturing to the desk directly in front of him. "Sit. We're still waiting for one person."

"Wha-" Elliot started to ask, but quickly bit down on his tongue and held back any further comments. Anything he said would just seem suspicious. If he wanted to get away from this fast, he might as well feign innocence. So, Elliot did as he was told, and instead of protesting, placed himself in the seat directly opposite Break.

Without a word, Break scanned him up and down, tilting his glasses downwards and shooting him a quizzical glance. Confused, Elliot responded with an equally as perplexed expression.

That just made Break chuckle, and stand up, grabbing the pen permanently kept on the edge of his desk as he wandered over to the whiteboard. "Ah, Elliot. You're so easy to mess with~"

"T-That's-" _exactly what Leo says to me._ "… never mind."

Silence lingered between the two momentarily, but for no more than a minute. The second Break finished scribbling the next lesson title onto the board, there was a knock on the door, despite the fact it was already open.

Elliot felt his heart drop when he saw who it was.

"Oz…?" he said, trying to sound annoyed. _Shit, what if he told him something?_ "W-What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, Elliot," Oz greeted, carefully closing the door behind him. There was something about his greeting that was… unnerving. The usual (irritating) bubbliness of his words; that aura of freedom and cheerfulness – all of it seemed to have been replaced with genuine concern.

And it wasn't just the type of mocking concern his words held on _that_ day. No, it was more serious than that.

Saying nothing, Oz walked around Elliot, placing his bag onto the desk and taking the seat beside him.

Elliot, his heart now racing, finally spoke. "What the _hell_ is this about?!"

For a moment, Oz and Break took some time to exchange indecipherable glances, as if to communicate some clandestine message only they could understand. If anything, this worsened Elliot's anxiety.

Then, Break spoke. "Elliot, your friend came to me recently to say he's been concerned about you. So, we're here to have a little _chat_."

"Tch, so what? This is like some, intervention?" Elliot scoffed.

Sharply, Break pointed the lollipop stick – balanced between two fingers – at Elliot. "Precisely."

Elliot froze. What could he _possibly_ need an _intervention_ for? If anything, Leo was the one who needed-

Maybe this wasn't the time to think about _that_.

"So," Break started again, jabbing the lollipop back into his mouth. "Oz tells me it seems as though something has upset you recently. Care to share?"

"What?!" No!" Elliot rejected instantly, activating every emotional barrier inside him. It was only _after_ his little outburst that he reconsidered his choice of words. "I-I mean, there's nothing bothering me."

"Liiiiieeeees~" Break chuckled. He knocked himself against the back of the chair with an exasperated _'huff'_ , and then sat up again, leaning his elbows on the desk. Looking at Elliot dead in the eyes, he continued, only this time, there was a bit of sincerity woven into his words, you could say. "Elliot. Your friend-"

"S-Stop calling him my friend!" Elliot interjected.

"- _friend_ ," Break reiterated with a smug grin. "- is worried about you. And, as you teacher, I say, you really have been gloomy these past couple of days. So, it will ask again: care to share?"

"No! _My_ problems are _my_ business!" he said defensively, averting his gaze to the floor when he remembered… _coming out_ to Oz, only last week. No matter _what_ happened, or what Break said, there was absolutely no way he'd allow himself to fall into that state at school, where _anyone_ could walk in.

 _What I… told Oz…_

"Wait a second…" Elliot, his heart pumping faster and faster erratically, physically _felt_ his palms sweating. "Oz! What the hell did you tell him?! Y-You broke our promise!"

"Hah?!" Oz responded with an expression of shock, and an exaggerated gasp. "Don't accuse me! I didn't tell him any-!"

"Oz is right, Elliot," Break interrupted their bickering before it could develop into a full-fledged fight. "Oz has not to me a single thing. _You_ have told me more, I must say, by confirming my suspicions." He smirked. "So I'll ask one last time, before I consult with the school counsellor: what's been going on inside that head of yours?"

One last reassuring, earnest glance from Oz was all Elliot needed to know that there was no point keeping it a secret. Sure, he might not tell Break _everything_ , but…

It was a choice for him, really: his sexuality, and everything that came with admitting _that_ , or Leo's not-so-secret-anymore drug habit.

He chose the former in a heartbeat. It might torture him internally, and he might be ridiculed, but…

At least Leo was safe.

"I'm not…" He tried, tripping over his words. "I don't think I should really talk to _you_ about th… this."

"Elliot!" Oz sighed, almost as if he were defending the other. "I can get why you… you told me. But trust me, he might be a little weird, but Break is a great teacher! If you can trust me, you can trust him…"

Jokingly, Break frowned, and rolled the lollipop around in his mouth as if he'd just remembered it was there. "Apart from the sly little insult in there – _I will get you for that, Oz –_ he's right~" The frown was gone, and replaced by an earnest smile, similar to one donning Oz's lips. "Elliot, please listen to what I'm about to say.

"I'm sure you've been told this before, but the longer you keep something inside, the harder it becomes to suppress." Break smiled, but differently. It was more regretful, than sympathetic; Elliot could tell the words he spoke, regardless of the context, came from personal experience. "If you keep something bottled up, no matter how trivial it is, it will always get worse. And sometimes, telling just one person isn't enough. Sometimes, there's only one person you can tell who will give you closure. If something _did_ happen, you will find it _much_ easier to tell me." He then chuckled, forgetting any temporary grief he may have felt when he spoke those words. "Sorry, I don't make the rules."

Elliot couldn't help but grin at that. Of all people, he knew that. He knew that too well. Because, no matter how much he wanted to, Elliot could not erase the fresh memories of last week.

"Let's start slow," Break said. "What happened when Leo wasn't here, hm? You were acting awfully glum~"

"I don't want to talk about that," Elliot refused, rubbing his hands over his knees over and over again, like the friction created was some sort of futile distraction. Once again, Oz's hand returned to his shoulder, giving him that same comforting squeeze he was damn sure he'd gotten too much of these past few days. "Nothing that _day_ really happened. He just… left."

"Mhm? And what happened after that?"

" _Someone_ kept pestering me about my feelings, 'n all that crap," Elliot said as he shot a look at Oz. "And then… I went home, and… thought about it some more."

"And…?" Break encouraged, flashing Elliot another smile to reassure him.

Elliot wasn't all that convinced.

Just at the thought of the same concerns as before, he began to feel tears well up in his eyes, an irrefutable tightness brewing in his chest. How could he be so pathetic? How could he _still_ be so pathetic?

Averting his eyes to the floor, he tried to look away, holding one hand up to his face to partially cover it. Anything would work as a distraction, but nothing could divert his attention from Break's prying gaze and the incessant thoughts returning to his consciousness.

Was he seriously doing this _again_?!

"I…" Elliot began to stammer again, swallowing down a lump in his throat along with the tears threatening to fall. His heart was pounding, his blood running cold.

No. He was Elliot Nightray. He had pride. Pride in himself.

For some reason, the smile locked on Break's lips seemed like one he could trust. One which 100% confirmed he _could_ be trusted.

And suddenly, Elliot felt… just about okay to tell him.

"I thought about it some more…" he chewed on his lower lip, lifting his head but still keeping his line of vision fixed on the wall, rather than on his teacher. "And, I… er… I'm…" _-gay._

Perhaps this was harder than he'd thought.

A few tears broke past his emotional restraints, and he frantically brushed them off his cheeks the moment they fell. He could've sworn he choked on his own breath, but that may have just been shock. Shock at the hand – _Oz's_ hand – placed calmly on his shoulder again; a stark contrast to the panic coursing through his veins.

"Elliot…" Oz sighed. "This doesn't have to be a big deal."

"But it is!" Elliot yelled defensively, trying to stop his voice from cracking and his façade from breaking entirely. His voice was raw, though. It was obvious how much he was fighting back from the strain on his words. "I don't want to be… to be hated, or… a disappointment!"

"Elliot," Break interjected. "I will not say a word to anyone outside of this room. Unless the problem requires legal action."

"I-I know…" Elliot said. Then, with a tentative breath, he finally readied himself to stay it, peeling the hand away from his face and looking down again, as he wiped his eyes. "I… I'm gay. There. I said it. That's… I know what you're thinking! A-And I'm not gonna apologise, because-!"

"You need not apologise," Break cut him off once again, tilting his glasses down slightly. His smile changed. It seemed almost… nostalgic, like something Elliot had said had hit close to home. But like always, Elliot couldn't figure it out. "For anything. I understand how difficult coming out can be. Really, you should be proud of coming out to Oz~"

"Hey!" Oz pouted. "I'm a great friend!"

"Fufu, sure~" Break chuckled, and then wove the sincerity back into his words as he continued speaking. "I also know how difficult it can be coming out in an aristocrat family. Typical, they harbour veeeeeery old fashioned beliefs, and you may never get around that. Sometimes, that's simply how it is. It's not me who made it that way, and I wish it _wasn't_ that way. But it is, and that fact is unavoidable."

Elliot nodded understandingly. It was the cold truth, but it was the truth, and he appreciated the honesty.

"And it's Leo you like, hm?"

After a short pause, Elliot nodded again.

"Hmm, nope. Not it."

"Huh?!" Elliot yelped. His reaction was rash, and impulsive, but the way he saw it, it was appropriate and well-deserved, too. "Are you seriously trying to tell me I _don't_ know who I like?! Who's driven me _crazy_ for the past few weeks?!"

"Ah ah, that's not what I'm saying," Break said, firmly. "What I _mean_ is that I don't believe that is the reason for your intervention." When Elliot didn't say anything; only stared at him blankly, he carried on. "Oz came to me this morning and said you'd been acting strange since _Monday_ , and whilst I appreciate you coming out to me, you've just described to me something which happened last _Thursday_." Another pause. "So, Elliot. What happened on Monday, hm?"

 _Shit._

"N-Nothing…" Elliot lied.

"Elliot…" Oz sighed again; the same disappointed, worried exhale as always. "Please! You've been really distant!"

"Elliot, I think you ought to know by now that I will listen," Break reassured. "But we'll take it slow, again. Did something happen on Monday? Oz told me you'd gone back to Leo's house. Did something happen then?"

"Yes! Alright, yes! It did! Are you happy now?!" Elliot blurted out. And then, a second too late, the reality of what he'd just said hit him like a sack of bricks. " _Shit_ … I-I didn't mean… to…"

"Aha, so something _did_ happen?" Break grinned. "Be so kind and tell us what it was."

"No," Elliot flat-out denied, already feeling himself break out into a cold sweat. "This is different. It's not… I can't just tell you both. _I'm_ not even supposed to know!"

"Calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Elliot abruptly interrupted Oz's attempt to cool him. After his initial panic, he buried his face in his hands, inhaling shakily. "I don't want me or… or Leo, to get in trouble."

"Rest assured, Elliot. I will not tell _anyone_ unless I absolutely have to," Break repeated from earlier. "I am sworn to confidentiality unless it's something so severe in which Leo would benefit from extreme action."

"I wouldn't… rule that out…" Elliot admitted, sinking into the chair and away from Break. This was Leo's secret. He couldn't just…

 _"_ _Unless it's something so severe in which Leo would benefit from extreme action."_

Those words, from just a few seconds ago, rang in Elliot's head. Over, and over.

For Leo's sake… he had to. Even if he hated Elliot. Even if he never spoke to him again.

Elliot had to do something.

 _I… I care about him too much to stay silent,_ he reluctantly confessed to himself. _He… he needs help._

"Well…" Elliot started hesitantly, scratching the side of his face in search of a suitable order of events to recall. "It got quite late, and I was about to leave. Um, earlier I'd… borrowed his phone charger, and… I wanted to put it back in the drawer I'd got it from," he explained. He felt himself begin to tremble at the thought of the events, the memories of which resurfacing. "I opened a random draw, t-thinking it was the right one, and what I found was… _not…_ anything I…"

When Elliot was unable to speak, his words trailing off, Break encouraged him further. His tone held its usual teasing but concerned edge. "And what did you find, hm?"

Elliot saw no other option than to just bite the bullet. "… um… drugs?"

Oz and Break both froze, their reassuring smiles dropping along with the expressions of encouragement. They both paled visibly, their expressions twisting into ones of incredulity.

"T-To be more specific…" Elliot elaborated, prompted by their silence. "They weren't… your usual type. It was pills, instead… I didn't know what the letters meant, so I googled it. And… it wasn't looking good."

"What did they say?" Break questioned, resting his chin on his hands. His expression was unreadable.

"OC," Elliot said.

Break's face dropped again, as if his blood had run cold too.

"You… know what they are?" Elliot asked.

"Mhm, Elliot?" A smile twitched at his lips; a sinister one, at that. Keeping his seemingly put-off gaze locked on Elliot, he reached over for his bag, searching around in the front pocket. "I have a Master's degree in Chemistry and a dissertation in Pharmacology. I would be a little concerned if I _didn't_ know what they were, wouldn't you?" His words held an irritated, biting edge, but Elliot couldn't figure out what he'd said that pissed him off.

A few seconds later, after retrieving his phone from the front pocket of his bag, Break spoke again. "Don't mind me. I must search something, but preferably _not_ on the school's search history." Strangely, his tone seemed serious for once, as if he were genuinely concerned. That fact alone made Elliot's paranoia worsen. "Now tell me, Elliot. Did you find anything else?"

"Um, yeah…" Elliot answered, reluctantly. He'd already thrown Leo totally under the bus; he might as well go all the way. "There was… a burnt spoon, and syringe. He keeps a lighter on him anyway, but… I _presumed_ that would be _useful_ as well…"

"Mhm," Break turned his attention to the computer, scrolling through something. "As I thought… the school records have virtually nothing on him. None of his medical history has been filled out either."

"I wonder why…" Oz muttered, tapping a finger to his lower lip.

"OxyContin is prescribed at first. It's likely that there was some type of, hm, how should I put it… _incident_ …" Break wondered aloud, folding one leg over the other before reverting his focus back to his phone. "Did they have a number on the back of them at all?"

Elliot paused to think about it. _Now that I…_ "Yeah… '40'."

Break nodded, scrolling through his phone in silence for a little longer before speaking again. "My, that _is_ a high dose. I really do hate to break it to you, Elliot, but it's _unlikely_ he'd have been _given_ that dose. It's more likely that he, hm… put _himself_ up to that dose. Do you… see where I'm going with this?"

"Yeah," Elliot said in defeat. "I do."

"Okay, Elliot. I can give you two options here," Break perked up, adjusting his glasses and locking eyes with Elliot once again. "One: I will forward your suspicions as I am supposed to as your teacher, and the school will contact the authorities and they will handle it appropriately. In that scenario, it is likely that Leo will be taken out of school and sent to a rehabilitation facility as soon as space becomes available. Or, two: you can pretend you never came to me, and talk to Leo about this. Because I am obliged to act upon this if it continues. If you can solve it, however, we can forget about this conversation."

"Leo would… never forgive me for the former…" Elliot said, primarily to himself.

It was true that an intervention and eventual rehab would be the best option for him. But Elliot was stubborn, and the thought of Leo hating him, and then _leaving_ , was too much. Too much considering everything that had happened as of late.

"I'll… speak to him about it tomorrow…" Elliot declared.

"Remember not to _force_ him off the drugs," Break said, sincerity laced into his words once again. "He needs _time_ , if addiction is the case. He needs somewhere there; be there for him, okay? Provided you're working through it in one way or another, I don't have to worry about you, fufu~"

"I wouldn't… force him off them anyway," Elliot grunted, scrunching his face up slightly. "He's shit with addiction and I know that already. He smokes like a goddamn chimney…"

At that last comment, Break paused again. Then, flashing Elliot a look which frankly said _"I'd watch what you're saying, if I were you",_ he gave him another piece of advice. "Mhm… of course I _noticed_. But, don't make him quit smoking as well. That'd be faaaar too much on him~"

Elliot scoffed. "What the _hell_ do _you_ know about smoking?"

"Ah, Elliot. Shall I tell you another story, hm?" Break chuckled, but the dead stare directed at Elliot seemed less amused, somehow. "I went to university with your brother, Gilbert. Aha, great memories they are, fufu~" Somehow, Elliot and Oz both knew from the tone of his voice that the story didn't involve particularly great memories. "In our first year, when we were 18, and veeeeeery stupid, Gilbert and I _both_ got into smoking. Mhmm, stupid indeed~"

"Woaaaah, I didn't know you used to smoke!" Oz gaped.

Meanwhile, Elliot, his face stuck on a perplexed expression, was still getting over the first point. "Wait… since when the hell did Gilbert smoke?!"

"Since we were 18. Aren't you following the story?"

"Tch, I didn't-"

"Notice? My, you _are_ unobservant~" Break couldn't help but snicker to himself, before continuing. "Anyway, we smoked, hm… _moderately heavily_ for 4 years, before one fine day, we got into a liiiittle argument, and challenged each other to see who could go the longest without a cigarette." He chuckled to himself at the reminiscences, his gaze falling to the floor. "Gilbert is veeeeeery weak willed, so he only lasted 3 days, fufu. I'd, on the other hand, already gotten that far, so _I_ continued till it was over. And, miraculously, I never picked up another cigarette again."

"T-That's…" Elliot was at loss for words. "… quite impressive."

"Indeed, but it's much harder than it seems," Break said. " _Much_ harder than it should be. So, long story short, be good and don't make him quit that as well, okay?"

"Sure…"

"Now then~" Break stood up with a huff, picking up his keys and card, stuffing them in his blazer pocket as he kicked the chair underneath the table. "Now that we have _that_ ordeal somewhat under control, why don't you two go and get lunch now, hm? I'm already late for teasing your brother."

"Hey! Don't bully Gilbert!" Oz pouted. Then, after standing up, he gestured for Elliot to follow, as they proceeded to the door together. "Thank you for the help though, Break."

"Anytime~" Break hummed, disappearing a second later with a dismissive wave.

Oz and Elliot stood outside the classroom for a few moments, an awkward silence hanging over them.

As usual, it was Oz who broke the silence. "Do you… want help, when you confront Leo?"

Furrowing his eyebrows together, Elliot shook his head and replied firmly. "No. This is… something I have to do _myself_."

* * *

For the last 24 hours, he had done nothing but think.

And drive himself _slightly_ insane.

Everywhere he went, every second of the day, Elliot was running over what he'd say in his head. Should he bite the bullet, or coax him into admitting it himself? Should he do it at school, or at his house? Should he do it in person, or over text?

There were far too many things which could go wrong; Elliot _had_ to get it right.

Eventually, he'd decided against text (how inconvenient would it be if he blocked him before he could even get to the point?), and for doing it at his house.

He'd… he'd go to Leo's after school and confront him then. It was better that way; no one could overhear them.

And that's _exactly_ what he'd done.

Of course, Elliot was respectful. On the Friday afternoon of that same way, he'd stayed behind in the library after school with Oz, having borderline panic attacks and trying not to stress over it. Just to give Leo some space.

Once it'd reached about 4pm, they left, and went their separate ways. And, as if some miracle had struck him, Elliot managed to walk all the way to Leo's house with turning back, fainting, or crying.

Just as he was approaching his house, his knees growing weaker by the second and his breathing growing erratic, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

 ** _[From Oz, 16:28]  
_** _good luck! I believe in u :D_

Elliot wanted to smile at that, but couldn't bring himself to.

Instead, as he placed one foot onto Leo's driveway, he fiddled with the phone in his hands for a few seconds, before pulling up a different conversation.

His fingers hovering over the keys, it took a couple of minutes of hesitating to type out the message, and then another couple of minutes for him to actually hit send.

 ** _[To Leo, 16:32]  
_** _I'm outside your house_

The reply came almost instantly.

 ** _[From Leo, 16:32]  
_** _what the fuck?_

 ** _[From Leo, 16:32]  
_** _im trying to work_

Elliot could picture Leo screwing his face up in irritation at his phone. Not that that could stop him at this point.

 ** _[To Leo, 16:33]  
_** _I have something I need to talk to you about_

There was a few moments of silence, before Elliot finally heard the sounds of footsteps creaking against the cheap wooden floorboards. Sucking in a deep breath, he took two more steps towards the house, now standing in the centre of Leo's drive.

Less than a minute later, the door clicked open, and said noirette dropped one foot onto the porch and lit the cigarette already in his mouth. Then, as he took the first drag, he fell sideways against the wall at the side of the porch, leaning dependently against the bricks as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips behind a cloud of smoke.

He seemed… annoyed. Not much of a surprise if Elliot had interrupted his work. "I'm listening."

After another deep breath to reassure himself and pluck up the courage to do this, Elliot finally spoke. "Leo… I know…" He paused, swallowing thickly. "I know what you're doing… a-and it's not fooling me!"

 _That sounds… absolutely terrible out of context…_ He mentally facepalmed.

Leo seemed to agree as well, a look of cluelessness twisting onto his face. However, there was a discreet – totally unnoticeable unless you were looking for it – edge of nervousness in his words when he gave a verbal response. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Elliot screwed his eyes shut, inhaled through his nose, and tried again. "Leo, I know-" He gulped. "I know you're… u-using drugs."


	9. Chapter 9

_**(A/Ns: strange, but i uploaded the last chapter exactly a month ago. anyway, here we have the Elleo kiss that the last 8 chapters have led up to, and about 5 paragraphs of Leo's POV in this which is truly a rarity.**_

 _ **please drop a review if you get the chance! :D**_

 _ **content warnings: swearing, smoking, strong references/depictions of drug abuse, brief drug withdrawal, prescription drug abuse, references to suicide and family death, mentions of suicide, and the Elleo Kiss (dldr)**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Leo's indecipherable stare didn't avert from Elliot at any point as he spoke. "How do you know about that?"

Elliot, drawing in a deep breath, tore his gaze away from Leo, unable to look at him any longer. "I… on Monday, when you went to the bathroom, I went to put your charger away." He shut his eyes; he could _feel_ Leo's burning glare on him. "I-I shouldn't have been poking around, a-and I know that. But I… I found the drugs. And I… I know what they are."

When Leo didn't respond, Elliot felt his chest tighten. The disappointed and slightly ashamed stare was enough to know that he'd ruined every last fragment of trust the noirette may have had in him.

Without uttering a single word, Leo's line of vision fell to the ground beneath him. Slowly, lowering himself onto the step of the porch, he shot an unreadable look at Elliot. When Elliot didn't respond – only continued staring blankly – he gestured to the space beside him.

Only _then_ did Elliot get the hint that he was inviting him to talk.

 _At least he's… willing to speak to me?_

Wordlessly, Elliot proceeded to where Leo had gestured to, sitting on the step so that they had least 3 inches between them.

Neither of them spoke. Instead, for over five minutes, the two just sat in total silence, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering over them like the aura of awkwardness.

Elliot wanted so desperately to apologise. To say sorry. To say he didn't mean it, and that he'd help him – regardless of what happened next. But the stoic, temperamental look stuck on Leo's face made him feel uneasy, at best. He had no _clue_ what he was thinking. Was he annoyed? Upset?

Embarrassed?

"Leo…" he started tentatively, trying to look at the other without wanting to cry. In the end, he reverted his gaze to the road; he couldn't stomach looking at that nonchalant expression for much longer before he would become overwhelmed by guilt. "Those pills… they were yours, weren't they?"

Leo, not daring to look away from the house in front of them in fear of locking eyes with Elliot, simply stared into the distance, and replied as ambiguously as possible. "Mhm."

Elliot didn't miss that discreet, sheepish, and almost unnoticeable nod that came with his mutter.

There was no point in withholding this conversation for any longer. It had to happen. He _knew_ he'd just shattered every part of the façade Leo had been holding up for so long. A confrontation was inevitable. It was times like this he was slightly glad he was like his sister, in that sense; upfront, blunt, and… well, confrontational.

With a deep, falsely-confident breath, Elliot readied himself to speak again. "I… I'm sorry, but… you have to get off them."

"No," Leo flat-out refused, without a second of contemplation. Despite his frantic verbal response, though, his body was still completely motionless. "Not happening."

"You have to," Elliot said bluntly.

"No. That's not going to happen, Elliot."

" _You have to_ ," he tried again. "Look, if you don't then… some people are gonna get involved, who… who I'm not sure you want involved."

It was at that point that Leo finally broken his stare into the distance, and locked his glare on Elliot. "Are you kidding me?"

Shamefacedly, Elliot shook his head.

"Who the hell did you tell about this?"

"I-It was only Break! A-And… Oz knows too…"

"For fucks sake…" Leo muttered, almost inaudibly. But the irritation, and panic, you could say, which was woven into his words told Elliot that he really had crossed the line.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Elliot said, tearing his eyes away from Leo. Just _looking_ at him made him guilty enough to give up on trying to be of any help.

"Save it," Leo said. "I don't want an apology. That won't change any of this. _Shit_."

"Above all else… I want…" Elliot swallowed thickly, nearly gagging on the imaginary lump in his throat. "I want you to do it for yourself."

Leo only snorted in derision at that, rolling his eyes exaggeratingly. "Why the hell do you even care?" he scoffed, grinding the burnt-out cigarette into the ashtray. "This has _nothing_ to do with you, so why do you even give a shit?"

Elliot bit his tongue, and screwed his eyes shut. There wasn't much point in fighting back the truth.

 _"_ _And sometimes, telling just one person isn't enough. Sometimes, there's only one person you can tell who will give you closure."_

The words Break had spoken to him only yesterday still rang fresh in his mind. He was right – _painfully_ right.

And that one person was Leo.

He had to tell him.

"Look, there's… something I need to tell you, and it's not gonna be easy-"

"I'm sure it'll be easier than admitting you're using drugs to one of your new friends," Leo cut him off, his tone conveying a sense of mockery. Patronising, as well. "You're not getting my sympathy."

"I know! Just… let me speak!" Elliot blurted out, and then took a deep breath. "I… I know it's only been 3 or 4 weeks, possibly less, but… you really do mean a lot to me. A-And I mean that. All my other friends were only ever friends with me because of my family, or some crap like that. And you… you were honest, and it felt… not fake, for once."

Leo sat sulkily in silence for a few moments, staring at the bottom step of the porch in contemplation. "I guess… you mean a lot to me as well."

Elliot shot him a questioning look. "What?"

"I never had friends," Leo said idly. "I was too violent, apparently. People would provoke me over minor things, I got in trouble for getting aggressive. And the popular kids don't like the troublemaker from the broken home. They just like the troublemakers who do it for attention. So when I got caught putting another kid in hospital, or smoking in the toilet, I was just… pestered for it. Because, as I said, the popular kids don't like the broken homes. They're too much maintenance."

 _Broken homes…?_

"That… makes sense…" Elliot pondered aloud for a bit. "Anyway, I think… and I know it sounds crazy, and I know it _is_ crazy, but… I… I think… I like you."

Leo was completely silent for a few moments. "Nice one," he snorted sarcastically.

"I'm not joking."

"Of course you are," Leo said, flat-out. "No one could ever like someone like me."

"It seems you're wrong about that," Elliot countered, fiddling with his hands in his lap. "Look, I-I thought about it a lot… and my friends always made comments, and it's not like I _wanted_ to feel like this, because that… that would mean I was-"

Elliot never got to the end of his sentence. Instead, mid-sentence, he abruptly felt a hand on the side of his jawline, spinning his head to the side. _Leo's_ side. And before he could coordinate a response, Leo's lips were planted onto his.

It was a soft, nearly apologetic, but slightly panicked kiss. One that spoke all the words he meant, but didn't dare to say.

Within seconds, it was over, Leo parting and retreating, and resuming to his nonchalant position; like nothing had even just happened between them.

The already-present blush on Elliot's face deepened, as he attempted to do the same as Leo, however ultimately failed at the thought of how sappy his next words would sound. "So, um… yeah, I… I'm gay."

"I know," Leo said simply, shuffling a bit of dirt around his foot. "I always knew."

Elliot visibly paled. "H-How?"

It was subtle, but Elliot still saw it: a discreet wink from Leo, only partially directed at him. "Because I am too."

"Oh…" Elliot said, the mutter slipping from his lips before he could stop it. He shook it off, trying to return the conversation to its original topic. "So, yeah, the… the pills. Why… why are you even… on them?"

Leo fell silent again.

And then Elliot turned his gaze back to the ground. Merely glancing over to his side at Leo was painful; pangs of momentary guilt consumed him. Only for a second, but it was enough. Enough for him to ponder on what wouldn't have gone wrong which had so far if he hadn't waltzed into the equation.

"I didn't intend for it to become a regular thing," Leo said, somewhat defensively, his hair draping over his face to shield what little expression wasn't covered by his glasses. "I was stupid. It was just… some stuff happened a while ago, and I got addicted so, so fast. And then it… turned into another habit, I guess."

"Right…" Elliot didn't know what to say. "I guess that's… understandable."

"Haha. As if you could understand it."

"Alright, then I don't understand it. I don't understand why you'd _willingly_ do drugs!"

"I didn't _willingly_ do anything," Leo said through gritted teeth. "I don't want to go into this now."

"But you're getting _off_ them. No matter what."

" _Yes,_ fine, alright," Leo sighed irritably, burying his head in his hands for a moment. "Look, I've got an appointment with my mother at the hospital tomorrow. Something trivial – I'll slap you if you ask. My mother is working so I have to go in myself. Just, please… let me have one more shot tonight, and then… I'm done. For good."

"Hm…" Elliot contemplated aloud. "Alright. But… you do know you don't _have_ to go, you know… cold turkey. You can ween off them. Break said that as long as you're doing _something_ , then…"

Abruptly, Leo's aura turned sour once again. "You don't know how hard that'd be. Going every second of every day knowing it's just gonna be more and more time until I get what I need. I'd rather just... throw it all out and do it at once."

"Are you sure you'll be okay to go to the hospital?"

"That's a stupid question," Leo snorted, seemingly amused by the other's question. "I'll just be cranky."

"Okay, that's... fine, I guess," Elliot said, still slightly tentative. "So… how long have you, you know…?"

"I don't want to go into this now," Leo rejected instantly, pulling out his phone and turning his focus to that, rather than the conversation. "I don't want my mother coming home to it."

"Right…" Elliot narrowed his eyes at the noirette; he _knew_ he was just avoiding the question.

There was a fleeting pause, Leo still staring at his phone as he spoke again. "Oh… my mother _isn't_ coming home today."

"Does that mean you'll answer my question?"

"Nope," Leo said. "You can stay over, though. For convenience, let's say."

"Sure," Elliot said, pretending to sound surprised. In actuality, he'd been expecting this; he had casual clothes, pyjamas, and his toothbrush, but he'd break that to Leo a little later. Oh, and a phone charger. Because he was _not_ going to make _that_ mistake again. Not that anything could be changed now, or anything. "I'll tell my parents I'm staying over someone's house for a project. They'll… assume another aristocrat, I think."

"Because you're predictable?" Leo questioned jokingly, standing up and kicking the door open.

Elliot frowned, and followed him inside. "Sure, let's go with that."

* * *

Sure enough, Elliot's parents hadn't questioned his whereabouts. The conversation with his sister was short, and he trusted she'd passed on the message.

And anyway, even if they did get funny about him staying away, that would've been the _least_ of his concerns.

Their evening together had taken off quite smoothly. Firstly, after Leo took them upstairs, both of them had simply started doing homework, as well as continuing the project. It had been awkward as _hell_ , of course, the lingering tension unavoidable, but at least they'd been able to finish it.

It wasn't until about 7pm that Leo started getting cranky. A barely noticeable shift in his mood, you could say, but Elliot caught on nevertheless.

He guessed that this was when he was used to using. And it seemed that, the moment Elliot questioned if he was okay, Leo lost all work ethic, grabbing his lighter off the bedside table and declaring that they were done with work.

At that point, Elliot opted to wait downstairs on the sofa for Leo to be done. And when he was done, without a word, Leo waltzed back inside, and dropped down onto the sofa next to Elliot.

And lulled his head onto Elliot's shoulder.

It was only _then_ that the memory of Leo _kissing_ him crossed his mind again. Leo probably noticed his little shuffle, but thankfully, he didn't bring it up.

Currently, it was coming up to 8pm. Neither of them had spoken for the past hour, and had instead sat in total silence, watching whatever came up on the TV. The tranquillity they shared was comforting, really, and the fact Leo had yet to remove his head from Elliot's shoulder reassured him that they still had a chance.

He couldn't stop thinking about the kiss.

What had driven him to do it? Why then? Did he like him back? Was it just for an apology?

Did it even mean anything?

Well, _regardless_ of what it meant to Leo, it meant a lot to Elliot. The flutter he felt in his chest was a sensation he'd never experienced before.

It felt… right.

"Did I tell you I was in a car crash?"

 _…_ _what?_

It took Elliot at least three seconds to process that – yes – Leo had just spoken, and that he'd said _that_.

"Um, no…" Elliot slowly turned his head to the noirette, who didn't move a muscle as he spoke.

"You seemed pretty interested in that photo by the front door when you came here on Monday," Leo said, jostling his leg slightly, and fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. He sighed shakily, like the memories of his recollection still disturbed him. They probably did, after all. "We were hit from side at an intersection, by someone drink driving. My father died."

Elliot had to blink a few times to let that sink in.

 _He… he really lost his father?_

A million and one pending questions sat on the tip of his tongue, but instead of bombarding him with an interrogation which would almost certainly exacerbate his already anxious predicament, Elliot only asked one thing.

"Did the drugs have anything to do with that?"

Leo immediately stopped all movement. Spare the light trembling, that is. "Hm… sort of, I guess."

Another pang of guilt surged through Elliot; his sympathy for the noirette doubled, even if he wasn't interested in it. "You're… still going through the detox though, right?"

" _Yes_ , I… am," Leo hissed, and shut his eyes with another uneasy exhale. "Can we please stop talking about that now?"

"Right, sorry…" Elliot knew he'd irritated him. "Do you want me to make dinner now?"

"No," Leo grunted, burying his face into Elliot's shoulder.

"Hm?" Elliot shot him a quizzical look, but was promptly ignored. "Why not?"

"'m not hungry," he said stubbornly.

"Well tough shit. You need to eat."

Quizzically, and slightly annoyed, Leo shot Elliot a look, before pulling away from his shoulder – breaking their contact – and reaching into his pocket. With trembling, unsteady fingers, he did the same thing Elliot always watched him do, and began rolling a cigarette.

And yet, watching him felt so different.

"Are you going to answer my question yet?"

"You sure do like making things awkward for us, don't you?" Leo commented, neatening out the tobacco along the filter paper.

Elliot frowned. And blushed. "Tch, you're the one who kissed me earlier."

Leo chuckled. It was clearly forced, though. "I did, didn't I?"

Begrudgingly, Elliot "hmph"-ed.

"Which question are we talking about here?" Leo said with an exaggerated sigh, bringing the cigarette up to his lips to finish rolling it. "You're so nosey, sometimes I lose track."

A few seconds passed in silence, in which Elliot sat staring at Leo, who did nothing except fiddle with the cigarette.

"You know…" Elliot started hesitantly with an aura of awkwardness to his tone. "Why you started…" He randomly, _barely_ gestured to the cigarette. "… that."

"Hm," he hummed briefly in thought. "I'm sure you've figured out that my mother doesn't know about the whole… you know, drug thing. Which means I had to keep it all a secret." He paused, and sighed. "I'm not a good liar. Well, I _wasn't_. The thought of becoming a pathological liar was stressful, to tell the truth. It took one cigarette from my dealer for it to become just… another habit." Leo paused again, but Elliot knew he wasn't finished. "If you think about it, logically, I will most likely be dead by the time I'm 18. That's why I don't care what it might be doing to me."

"Hang on, why are you just gonna… you'll be _dead_?" Elliot scoffed.

"Mhm," Leo nodded. "Overdose. Or suicide. I'm practically waiting for the former to happen." The sarcasm in his words unfortunately didn't mask the severity of what he actually meant. "And if that doesn't happen soon enough, then… I'll just be left with the _latter_ option."

Elliot was nonplussed, once again.

"Alright, that's enough of that. You know where I'll be," Leo promptly stood up, and grabbed the lighter from the edge of the coffee table where it had been resting. "Make what you want for dinner. Can't promise I'll eat it."

Before Elliot could even try to stop him, Leo was at the door, sticking the cigarette between his lips and turning the handle. The nightly breeze was cool, and faint, but still enough to carry away the wisps of smoke as he lit the cigarette. To call it relief would be pushing it; really, he was just satisfying one addiction.

The _other,_ however…

Leo really wished Elliot didn't know about it.

Bringing the cigarette back up to his lips and inhaling once again, he couldn't help but feel annoyed, taking a step away from the house and dropping down onto the bottom step of the porch. Plumes of smoke drifting from the cigarette and between his lips quickly captivated his attention. A futile distraction from thinking about _it._

It was his own fault, anyway. Leo mentally kicked himself when he inhaled again, wandering forward onto the empty driveway as he flicked the ash off the cigarette.

Elliot wasn't stupid. A little dense, sometimes, but not _stupid_. He should've been more careful.

Now, they were in this mess.

Part of him wanted to give up. Stop trying. Hell, even run away.

However, Elliot's confession had stuck with him. He'd kissed him, for Christ's sake.

Leo wasn't sure whether he regretted that or wished he'd done it sooner.

Because now, instead of feeling like he genuinely had someone there for him, who cared about him, he was outside, alone and puffing on a cigarette like it was the only bit of comfort he'd get.

In the end, Elliot deserved better than _him_.

After wandering aimlessly and overthinking for another few minutes, Leo had finally finished the cigarette, dragging on it one last time before kneeling down and extinguishing it in the overflowing ashtray. When he passed the threshold into his house again, his senses were immediately assaulted by the smell of food, exacerbating the nausea already present in the pit of his stomach. Nervously, Leo checked the time on his phone.

 _20:14_

It had been over an hour since he usually used, and to say he could feel it would be an understatement. Already, after an _hour,_ the same crawling sensation under his skin returned, yet Leo absolutely refused to let that show as he sauntered into the kitchen, folding his arms over up at his chest.

"Your food supply was… _minimal_ ," Elliot commented, leaning against the counter with his face glued to his phone. "I, er, went with cheese toastie, in the end."

"What can I say?" Leo grunted, somewhat sarcastically. "I already told you: we're poor."

Elliot really, really wanted to ask how he got the money to buy the OxyContin, but decided against it; the light tremors from probably 7 hours of cessation was noticeably kicking in. Pushing his temper would be ludicrous, despite the fact these were all questions he was sure he'd get the answers to eventually.

After only three minutes, he was done with making dinner, serving what little he'd made along with knives and forks. Leo looked sick already, but didn't protest when Elliot tentatively placed the food down in front of him.

Sure enough, the two ate in total silence. Elliot struggled to keep his focus off Leo, who seemed to be suppressing a gag with every tiny bite he took. In the end, he was only able to eat just about half of the meal anyway.

"Um…" Elliot piped up slowly, continuing with his meal as he spoke. "Can I ask… why don't you ever seem to eat anything?"

Leo promptly shot him a glance through the glass of water at his lips which blatantly said _"no, you can't, you dickhead",_ but answered nevertheless. "That's just what the drugs do. Occasionally I get really hungry, and eat loads, but then I lose my appetite completely, and that always comes back up anyway."

"Ah. Ok then…"

To no surprise, with shaking hands, Leo began rolling another cigarette just five minutes later. He struggled with the delicacy of the task, and tried to mask this, but Elliot saw it nonetheless.

"I'm not eating anymore," the noirette said with an indecipherable tone, as he kicked the chair aside and shoved the kitchen door out off the way with his shoulder. "You can wash up. I'm going out."

* * *

After another of sitting curled up on the sofa, with the TV pointlessly on, it became abundantly clear that this was much, _much_ harder on Leo. Harder than _either_ of them had anticipated.

Elliot had never felt someone shake so much. And how long had it been since his usual dose? 3 hours, maximum?

He wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer; Elliot was sure of it.

"Um… what do you usually do when you're stressed?" he asked, his tone soft, like he was encouraging him to open up, just a little bit.

Leo appeared to hesitate at first, as if he didn't want to answer the question. Then, with his head still turned towards the TV, he answered briefly, "Smoke."

"Right," Elliot deadpanned. "Do you have anything that… you know… _won't_ kill you?"

Once again, Leo went silent straight after receiving the question. The amount of time it took him to process answers was nothing short of concerning for Elliot, particularly since it was so far from his usual sharp, and attentive self.

"Follow me," Leo said, standing up abruptly and dropping the blanket to the feet. He shuddered, flicked his hair over the majority of his face, and folded his arms over his chest. As he began leading Elliot up the stairs, Leo discreetly added another comment. "Because I'm sure you won't approve of snorting Xanax, either."

"Of course I wouldn't."

"I haven't died from it yet," Leo countered.

Elliot mentally facepalmed. "Please tell me you're not hooked on Xanax as well."

"Don't worry, dumbass," Leo shook his head, and Elliot couldn't tell if he wasn't amused, annoyed, or a bit of both.

At the top of the stairs, instead of turning into his bedroom, like Elliot expected, Leo carried on walking, kicking open the door directly opposite the top of the stairs. Elliot had always assumed it to be some sort of utility room, thus was surprised to see a rather dusty built-in ladder, which led to what appeared to be the loft.

"Watch your step," Leo muttered. He didn't let it show, but the light tremble in his limbs made it obvious that even climbing a few steps up the ladder was too much strain on him.

Miraculously, however, they both made it up to the loft. The stench of rotting wood and dust hung in the damp air; Elliot couldn't possibly think why Leo would willingly spend time in this dark room.

When he turned the light on, after blindly groping at the wall for the switch, it suddenly became obvious.

The small space was lit by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, suspended by a frayed wire. In the room, there was one thing and one thing only: a piano. It was rustic, and seemed authentic. Expensive, as well. Elliot felt a pang of jealously.

"This was the only thing I moved from my old house," Leo explained, the tightness in his throat becoming more apparent with every word. Stress visibly dissipating just a little from his shoulders, he delicately dragged his fingers over the keys. It was immaculately clean, and inherently obvious that he spent a lot of time with it. "You know, the house we lived in with…" The tightness returned. "… with my father."

"That's…" Elliot struggled to find the right words, as usual. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Leo fell silent, his fingers frozen over the keys.

"Can you play something?"

A few moments of consideration later, Leo nodded, lifting his shaking hand from the keys and rummaging through a box of sheet music which sat on the floor beside the foot pedals. His expression nonchalant, the noirette eventually picked one, spreading it out on the music rack and collapsing onto the stall so… naturally.

Elliot felt his heart skip a beat when he realised he was about to hear Leo play the piano again, and he only got a brief glance at the title and composer of the piece before the elegant melody began.

 _Composer: Yiruma_

 _"_ _The Days That'll Never Come"_

How appropriate.

Every note he played merged together into a sequence of broken chords, and the melody truly tugged on Elliot's heart. Because it sounded real, and raw; every emotion he felt was being poured into the piece.

Elliot was so mesmerised by it that it took him halfway through the piece to realise that Leo was crying.

 _He's… crying?_

It was discreet – barely noticeable – but with every end of a verse, another couple of tears dripped onto his lap, or occasionally onto the keys. He sniffed, every other bar, and yet continued playing regardless.

The tightness in Elliot's chest returned and intensified when the piece came to an end, and Leo's last emotional wall crumbled.

With his head buried in his hands, Leo kept his foot on the sustain pedal as he sobbed, pushing his glasses out of the way. His hair shielded his face, and Elliot had no idea whether he was supposed to say something, or remain silent at the edge of the room.

After crying for a minute straight, his voice cracking, Leo finally spoke.

"I can't do this…" he whispered, frantically shaking his head. Elliot didn't know if he was speaking to him or not. "I'm scared of doing this, and I can't… take much more…"

Elliot had never seen this side of Leo.

"Do you want to, um…" He found himself struggling for words once again. "… take your, you know… last-"

Before Elliot finished the sentence, Leo stood up, the room falling silent spare the hasty footsteps heading straight for the ladder. It took a little too long for Elliot to realise he should probably follow, and by the time he caught up with Leo, he was already at the bathroom door, all the paraphernalia held in his tightly clenched fist.

Elliot didn't beleaguer him. He simply allowed him do what he needed to do… whilst standing at the door with his arms folded interrogatively, that was. And in the silence, it suddenly clicked with him that Leo probably still had a stash of pills in his room.

It took a lot of mental willpower and selective emotional ignorance, but eventually Elliot worked up enough courage to return to the drawer. That drawer: the one which led them to all this in the first place.

No. Despite how painful it would be, it had to be done.

For Leo's sake.

Shutting his eyes and holding his breath, Elliot opened the drawer. Everything was the same as how it'd been on Monday, including the amount of OC pills and syringes. Presumably, he stocked up every couple of days.

He didn't look when he picked up the pills, and gripped them in his palm until his knuckles turned white.

A moment later, the door clicked open. By no means relaxed and only a tiny bit calmer, Leo stepped out of the bathroom, his hair covering his face once again. Elliot was relieved to see he wasn't shaking anymore though, at the very least.

"Flush the pills."

Lagging a little in his responses, Leo turned his head up to Leo, flashed the other a blunt expression of disapproval, and blinked. "What?"

"I _said_ , flush the pills," Elliot repeated, shaking the transparent bag at Leo and striding over to where he stood, bemused. "What, are you too high to understand what I'm saying?"

At that, Leo's dilated pupils immediately refocused on Elliot, glaring at him with a scornful look of utter contempt. "I'm not fucking _high_ , idiot," he hissed, yanking his sleeves down and shoving past Elliot into his bedroom, going straight for the tobacco and rolling paper resting on the bedside table. "I just feel… normal, and not shaky or depressed or anxious or paranoid."

Elliot was left with nothing to say. Yet again.

Leo, the expression of disdain being replaced with one of fear, almost, vaguely pointed at the pills. "I'm not doing that. I can't do that. Physically and mentally, I... I can't do that."

"I'll… I'll do it then."

Taking two steps towards the bathroom, Elliot began to feel himself grow anxious. Doing this would genuinely hurt Leo, and yet, so freely, and willingly, he was about to do it?

"I can't watch it either," Leo said almost inaudibly under his breath, as he shoved passed Elliot in the corridor and headed straight for the stairs, the cigarette already resting between his teeth. "There's an airbed in the top shelf of the cupboard. I'm sure you won't mind poking around my things anymore."

 _Ouch._

Elliot would be lying if he said that last comment didn't hurt. But as he dropped the pills in the toilet, and watched them dissolve slightly, Elliot knew that – ultimately – he had hurt Leo more than Leo could ever hurt him.

Sure enough, when he returned to Leo's room, said air mattress was precisely where he said it would be, and it took no longer to blow it up (and for Elliot to get changed into his pyjamas as well) than it took Leo to finish the cigarette and return.

Despite it only being 10pm, Leo still grabbed his night clothes from the pile of clothes by his bed, burying a hand in his hair. He swallowed thickly, and then spoke. "I'd… rather go to sleep, to be totally honest with you, Elliot. It'll hit… _badly_ in the morning. I just… yeah, I want to sleep."

"Alright," Elliot said, sounding slightly exhausted himself.

"Use the blanket over there," Leo said, pointing to yet another pile of clothes and blankets in the corner of the room. Then, he strode over to the door, flicked the light switch off, and slammed the door shut on Elliot.

It fell silent, and suddenly, Elliot found himself uneasy, lying on the air mattress in the dark. He was shattered, sure, his eyes lagging shut with every other breath; he hadn't slept for longer than 4 hours since Sunday night, and clearly, that took its toll.

A minute or so, he heard throwing up.

 _Well that's dinner gone._

And, barely a minute after that, the door clicked open, Leo tiptoeing across the room without a single word regarding what Elliot may or may not have heard.

Then, when he heard the bed creak under Leo's weight, Elliot finally allowed his eyes to fall shut and himself to drift further and further away from the surface of consciousness. Right before he passed out, however, one single thought crossed his mind; a positive message of hope to send him to sleep, rather than into crippling insomnia.

 _Whatever happens… we'll get through this._


	10. Chapter 10

_**(A/Ns: ya know, it's weird to think about the fact im already on chapter 10 of this shit. like, there's only another 5 full chapters left? anyway! this is now my new favourite chapter, it's the chapter i did the most research on (literally... so much dodgy googling), and i just love the medical stuff i included :D oh, and excuse my britishness when i say "mum" and not "mom". finally, i started college so my time is scarce :")**_

 _ **please drop a review if you get the chance!**_

 _ **content warnings: drugs, smoking, swearing, vomiting, drug withdrawal, minor violence, prescription drug abuse, did i mention drugs, angst, and a ton of crying.**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

When Elliot first woke up the next morning, he didn't actually remember where he was.

It was about 8:30am when the light breaking through the crack in the partially drawn curtains invaded his senses, glinting in the morning dew which resided on the glass. And the light poured onto the left side of his face; this alone was weird, as Elliot could swear he slept on his left whereas his window was on the right of his room, which made no sense.

The dull ache in his neck also seemed strange. Then, as he was pulled from REM sleep to full consciousness with an abrupt stir, it finally clicked with Elliot that he was at Leo's.

 _And Leo is…_

Eyes trailing from the floor to the bed on the other side of the room, Elliot had to blink several times before his vision went from blurry to clear. On Leo's bed, there was a heap of sheets, topped off with the pillow.

But there was no Leo.

For a brief moment, Elliot panicked; had he escaped? Left? Gone to get drugs? Fortunately, however, his worries were put to rest only a few seconds later, when the distinct scent of cigarette smoke coming from the open windows hijacked his sense of smell.

 _…_ _still here._

Elliot, somewhat half-asleep, managed to haul himself up from the deflated air mattress, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he passed the front door on the way to the kitchen, he deliberated going to check on Leo first, but quickly decided against it.

If it had been 11 hours since his last fix, then… Elliot wasn't particularly eager to exacerbate his already on-edge temperament.

He was only in the kitchen for a minute or so, making both himself and Leo tea, before said noirette entered the room.

As expected, Leo's entire aura just seemed agitated, and unstable. Complimenting this perfectly was the expression of unpleasant surprise which morphed onto his features when he laid eyes on Elliot.

"Oh. You're up," he grunted, pulling the sleeves of his cardigan over his wrists and folding them over his chest, as he plonked down onto one of the chairs and dropped his face onto the table.

"Good morning," Elliot greeted with a touch of sarcasm.

Leo didn't appreciate the sarcasm, languidly lifting his head and pushing his glasses up his face just a little. His hair fell over his face, as usual, except this time, he didn't seem to have the energy to brush it out the way. Still, though, Elliot could feel the unimpressed glare directed at him, as he muttered an equally-as-sarcastic, "sure."

"You were sick last night, right?" Elliot straight up interrogated, bringing over the two mugs of tea and placing one in front of Leo.

"Hm?" Leo's gaze remained on the floor, as he continued feigning innocence, picking up the tea without any sign of gratitude. But he didn't drink it.

"Last night," Elliot repeated, hesitantly sipping on the tea and wincing at the burning sensation when it touched his tongue. "After you turned the light off. I heard you throwing up. Why didn't you call for help?"

"I didn't _need_ help," Leo said dismissively, placing the tea down again. Wordlessly, he sniffed, trying not to sound too congested but ultimately failing. "It… happens a lot. Maybe… twice a week?"

Elliot tried his best not to appear explicitly shocked. "Surely that would only happen if you were putting something, you know… _toxic_ into your body."

"Mhm," Leo nodded. With trembling hands, he retrieved the loose tobacco and filter paper from his pocket, shakily trying to roll a cigarette. "The drug itself doesn't make me sick. _I_ make _myself_ sick. The drug makes me lose my appetite, and if I've eaten, that makes me nauseous. To get rid of that, I just… make myself sick."

"R-Right…" Elliot said, struggling to get his head around… well, all of this. "And that… doesn't put you off it?"

"Aha, Elliot," Leo chuckled, but Elliot could tell quite distinctly that any amusement was entirely forced. "You really don't get what it's like, do you?"

"Well, I mean… I did a lot of research, but um…"

"Research is decent," Leo hummed, smoothing the cigarette over with an unsteady finger. "But it can't convey how it _feels._ The temptation to… to escape. And to use despite the pain, or the problems it causes." He paused, standing up and sticking the cigarette between his teeth, but the lingering silence implied he hadn't finished speaking.

Once he reached the kitchen door, Leo stopped, turned back to Elliot, and finished what he was saying, with sincerity woven into his words. "I already said this last night, but… I didn't keep using to be high. I used to avoid withdrawal."

Elliot was speechless.

 _And now he's being thrown straight into withdrawal. By me._

 _Great. Fucking great._

In the end, rather than pestering him (albeit Elliot still couldn't see how one could want to smoke twice in 10 minutes), he decided to make breakfast. Even if Leo barely ate any of it, or threw it up – _made himself sick –_ later, he still needed to eat _something._

Exactly as it was last night, their food supply was rather limited. Eventually, Elliot was just about able to scrape together the ingredients to make a few pancakes. It was a simple dish to prepare, and by the time Leo returned, he was nearly done.

"I'm not eating it," Leo said stubbornly. He sniffed, sat down, and grabbed a tissue from the box in the middle of the table.

Reluctantly, as he sat down opposite the noirette with food, Elliot resigned to the fact that there was no point in pushing Leo.

Irritability, congestion, shaking…

This was the acute withdrawal. He'd read about this. He was familiar with this.

Nevertheless, despite his protests, Leo did eventually pick up the fork, shove the food around on the plate for a bit, and eat a few small pieces of the fruit at the side of the plate. Seemingly repressing a gag with every bite, that was.

Just as he went to place the fork down, the awkward silence hanging over them was abruptly interrupted by his phone, vibrating against the table.

 _'_ _Emma: calling'_

Elliot admittedly felt a pang of sadness at the fact Leo didn't even address his mother as, well, _his mother._

He seemed reluctant to pick it up, but after a few seconds of hesitation, Leo did pick it, up, giving a rather apathetic grunt as his greeting. "Hello?"

It was impossible for Elliot to decipher what she was actually saying, but the noirette's vague responses were good enough hints.

"I'm fine, just tired." Another pause. "No, I don't have a cold…" Leo sniffed, and then shot a slightly concerned sidelong glance to Elliot. "Uh huh… okay. I'll… see you there."

It was discreet, but Elliot still picked up on it: the shift in his expression. Before, he just looked irritated. However, now, the look on his face conveyed… fear, really. And it was difficult to tell, but Elliot could've sworn his shaking had somehow intensified.

"What is it?" Elliot asked, conveniently breaking eye contact when he stood up to clear the plates.

"They, um… they want to take a drug test, because _apparently_ I'm not getting better," Leo said, chewing on his lower lip nervously as he drummed his fingers against the table in thought.

"Oh... right…" Elliot wasn't sure what to think. "I'll guess they'll just… find out then?"

"Hm…" Leo hummed ambiguously, still lost in thought.

"Are you ready to go yet?" he questioned, roughly wiping down the work surfaces. "I can just get dressed quickly, and then we can… go…"

"Sure," Leo muttered, folding his arms tightly against his chest and heading straight for the door without glancing back. Under his breath, and almost inaudibly, he said, "'m going to the bathroom."

For a split second, Elliot grew slightly concerned that he'd gone to make himself sick again. Then he realised that, whatever happened, he couldn't change it, or stop it.

Leo would do what Leo wanted, and there was no chance that that would change at all during his detox.

He just had to hope that – despite everything – he'd be at least _somewhat_ cooperative.

* * *

"How are you feeling?"

The walk to the station so far had taken much longer than expected, given the fact that, as the journey had proceeded, Leo's ability to steadily keep up with Elliot had been gradually faltering.

At the question, Leo's expression turned bitter once again. He turned his gaze as far away from Elliot as possible, and answered against his will. "Just cold… and shaky."

For a brief moment, Elliot considered questioning him.

If he'd used last night at around 9:30pm, it had been around 12 hours. Every reason for the acute withdrawal to start, but the stage of withdrawal which caused temperature fluctuations, fevers, and tremors, had yet to come. _That_ part didn't start until 24 hours since the last use – he'd researched this in detail.

 _I guess he's just… nervous._

Elliot simply brushed it off. They had places to be; there was no use in stressing about the other.

By the time they reached the station, it was almost 10am, and they only _just_ caught the train they had planned to. Sure enough, at this time, moving away from the city, the train itself was deserted.

For privacy's sake, Elliot led them to a carriage with no one else, taking a seat on one of the three-seaters. The moment he sat down, Leo dropped down into the seat beside him, and – without asking – leant over and lulled his head onto Elliot's shoulder.

When the train started moving, it seemed as if he hadn't even noticed; like he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

 _Drowsiness…_

 _No, irritability is… the acute withdrawal, and he's not…_

"Leo," Elliot said, remembering to keep his voice down. The noirette was fairly unresponsive, but he continued speaking anyway. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Hm?" Leo murmured, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. He shifted, and sniffed, lifting one foot up onto the seat and burying his knee into his chest. "It doesn't matter."

"It does," Elliot countered. " _I'm_ the one taking care with you. Surely I _should_ know!"

" _Fine,_ " Leo hissed, and that was how Elliot _knew_ he wasn't okay. Because, if he was his usual self, he would _not_ freely answer that question. "I didn't want the drug test coming back positive."

Elliot felt his heart begin to beat faster and faster, a cold sweat washing over him in fear that Leo had done something stupid. "What did you do?" he interrogated, trying not to let his concerns come off as bitterness.

"… -opioid blocker."

His words were muffled by Elliot's shoulder; thus, the first part of the sentence was indecipherable.

"What?"

"I _said_ , I took an opioid blocker," Leo repeated, blatantly irritated with the other's interrogation. Then, he froze, before abruptly swinging his legs off the seat and almost _frantically_ glancing around. " _Shit…_ Elliot, we need to find a bathroom."

Part of him wanted to refuse, and demand that they remain there until his questions were answered. However, the urgency of his declaration told Elliot quite clearly that they didn't have time to _chat_.

Obviously, whatever he'd taken had thrown him straight into the secondary phase of withdrawal.

"Whatever," Elliot rolled his eyes, standing up and doing the looking instead of Leo, who clearly wasn't in the right state of mind, considering there was disabled toilet cubicle more or less right in front of them, at the back of the carriage. "Come on, then we'll _talk_."

Leo pretended he didn't hear the last comment, as he stood up and hastily followed Elliot to the bathroom. It was fairly disgusting in there, but at least it was big enough for both of them.

"You didn't have to follow," he said quietly, a light tremble in his voice. Shakily, he grabbed his edge of the sink, his complexion growing paler with every shallow breath.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, idiot. And you're obviously _not_ ," Elliot muttered defensively, stubbornly folding his arms across his chest. Then, his glare softened slightly, along with his intonation. "Look, i-if you need me to hold your hair back or something, then… just say the word, I guess."

Before Leo even finished shaking his head, his breathing turned ragged, and then he gagged, hurriedly turning around to the toilet and collapsing on the floor in front of it. And less than a second later, he heaved again, bringing up what little was in his stomach.

Every retch was strained, and Elliot couldn't help but grimace. At the same time, however, he felt awful for the other; he'd never seen anyone throw up so violently. Even watching was painful.

Wordlessly, whilst holding his breath (he'd never been particularly good with vomit), Elliot knelt down behind the other, tentatively pulling his bangs away from his face. And, surprisingly, his efforts weren't totally dismissed, albeit Leo was most likely too pre-occupied with puking to bother with him.

It took at least three minutes for the noirette to be totally reduced to only dry heaving. Once he was, his breathing still uneven, he seemed… exhausted, every hitch of his breath stimulating a new stream of silent tears.

Beside him, Elliot felt really quite useless. But what _could_ he do?

A pained, desperate expression twisted onto Leo's face. Then, a tad apathetic, he shut his eyes, wiping away the streaks of tears.

"Do you want to go back now?" Elliot asked softly, watching Leo, and keeping his eyes away from the toilet bowl.

Unable to speak without intensifying the nausea, Leo merely nodded, blindly reaching up to flush the toilet. With shaking hands, he pulled himself up with the help of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. His complexion was deathly pale. Well, even more so than usual.

With uneasy steps, he staggered back to the door, pushing it open and almost tripping over it. Barely, they made it back to the seats, Leo pulling both knees up to his chest and wrapping himself in his cardigan like it were a blanket. And from the moment Elliot sat down, he was turned into a pillow again, as well.

"What did you take?" Elliot asked, keeping his voice down. It wasn't like there _were_ any other passengers nearby, but he wasn't exactly willing to risk it.

"I already told you," Leo whispered, restlessly jostling his leg against Elliot's forearm. Whether was shaking or simply shivering, Elliot wouldn't know, but what he _did_ know was that he was trembling like a leaf, unable to form full sentences or even breathe regularly. "I don't know the… the exact name."

"Where did you get it?"

"My dealer," Leo hissed, and if his intonation was anything to go by, he was quite clearly done with this conversation – no, _interrogation._ "He said to take it if I was ever threatened a drug test. That's all."

Elliot, however, was not done. "Are you sure that was safe?"

"Well I don't care if it wasn't."

"… right." Elliot sighed inwardly; that was the end of that.

Rather than pressing Leo – who was currently falling asleep against his shoulder – for more information which he obviously wasn't going to share, Elliot simply pulled out his phone, and prayed to whatever mythical deity was out there that researching what he'd little been told would give him _some_ confidence that Leo wasn't in danger.

* * *

The internet had been of little help, but at least they'd gotten to the hospital in the end.

In the end, half an hour late, having stopped for Leo to throw up in a bush halfway through the journey, and with Elliot carrying the other on his back for the last of the it.

"I can walk from here," Leo murmured, dropping onto the ground. From the moment his feet touched the ground, however, he seemed exhausted, barely pulling himself up the steps. He stopped, his fist gripping the railing just so he didn't collapse, and turned to Elliot, somewhat pleadingly. "Do I have time to smoke before?"

"Leo, we're already half an hour late! Your mother is probably worried!"

"Who gives a shit?"

"Leo, _no_ ," Elliot declared, grabbing the other's wrist and dragging him up the rest of the steps and through the hospital doors.

Neither of them spoke another word to each other once they entered the vicinity and proceeded straight to the paediatric unit. Once he'd released himself from Elliot's hold, Leo had led them.

He didn't hesitate at all in his steps. Elliot could tell he'd done this multiple times. There was also a nervousness about his aura, and with a little deduction, it became apparent that this wasn't something he _liked_ to do often.

Sure enough, the moment they arrived at the waiting room, both Elliot and Leo laid eyes on Leo's mother, a worry-stricken glare flitting to the two of them, but primarily Leo.

"Why are you so late?" she whispered, shakily approaching them. "Leo, the doctors wanted to see you _half an hour_ ago!"

"I don't care," Leo sniffed. His attempts at not sounding congested and just generally sick were blatantly futile at this point. Luckily – _hopefully_ – his mother wouldn't know _why_.

"Go in there now," she instructed, wrinkling her nose before screwing her face up in disappointment at him. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

" _Nothing_ ," Leo grunted, subtly leaning against Elliot.

"They want your drug test." She lowered her voice again as she spoke discreetly, a light tremble in her words.

"Whatever," he exhaled, shooting anxious sidelong glance to Elliot before being whisked away by doctors.

Wordlessly, Emma gestured to the two empty seats behind them, allowing Elliot to sit first before seating herself beside him. Awkwardness hung between them, but not for long.

"What's… wrong with him?" she asked, and then immediately shook her head at herself. "No, never mind. He obviously trusts you more than me."

"I…" Elliot stammered. Guilt overwhelmed him at the thought of lying to her about her own son, but for Leo's sake, he had no choice. "I think he's just sick."

A slightly sad, but mostly warm smile was sent his way. "I hope so…"

Part of him wanted to tell her. She was his _mother –_ she _deserved_ to know the truth. Who was he to keep things from her? He also felt awful for her. The feeling of knowing that your own son hated you was one Elliot couldn't even fathom.

The two sat in silence for at least 10 minutes, before finally, one of the doctors – he presumed – came out into the waiting room, and straight over to where they sat. "Emma, and…?"

Elliot's mouth dropped open to introduce himself, but before he got the chance to reply, Emma introduced him.

"Elliot, he's Leo's friend," she said, smiling at him again. Elliot knew, however, that the smile was forced. "He can come in with us. Leo is more likely to speak if he's there… I think."

"Very well." The doctor seemed somewhat put off by that, but nevertheless still willingly led the two into another private room.

Sterile like every other place in the hospital, the room was minimal. Other than a couple of sofas and a window, there wasn't much else, spare a mostly empty bookshelf with a few medical books leaned up against each other in no pattern. Elliot presumed it was some sort of therapy room.

He and Emma both took a seat on the sofa, awkwardly waiting for the doctor to say something. Instead, however, he traipsed over to the bookshelf, pulling off a large blue book entitled "DSM-5". With the book tucked under his arm, he finally sat down, folding one leg over his knee and extending a hand to Elliot.

"I forgot to introduce myself," he said, smiling at Elliot as the other returned the handshake hesitantly. "I'm a Psychiatrist at the hospital here who works closely with Emma and her son."

"It's, uh… nice to meet you."

The doctor opened the book, his gaze darting between the contents page and Elliot. "Pardon me if I seem rude, but I recognise you from somewhere."

"Oh, well, um… I'm a child of the Nightray family…" Elliot said, trying not to sound overly modest as he casually flaunted his family name. "They're prevalent in the medical field."

"Ah, of course. That must be it," he said, once again shooting him a friendly, genuine smile. "Now, Emma: the drug test."

Nervously, Emma nodded. "Where is he now?"

"Currently, one of my colleagues is just asking him a few questions. After a little bit of pushing, we were able to take a urine sample," he explained, taking a deep breath. "The results came back clean. However… he is exhibiting signs of drug withdrawal, and we are not sure why. Do you… know anything about this? Either of you?"

"No, he…" she sniffed, visibly fighting back tears. "He doesn't really speak to me about… anything, really."

Immediately, when both questioning stares turned to him, Elliot shook his head, and shrugged. He had never been a very good liar.

"Hm…" he hummed in thought, tapping the pen against the side of the book. "He still smokes? Regularly?"

Despite shifting uncomfortably, Emma still nodded. "He started a new school a while ago, so I don't know if he still does as much, but…"

The doctor glanced quizzically at Elliot. "You attend school with him?"

"Um, yes…"

"Would you say he smokes… _heavily_? Or during school hours?"

Elliot remained totally silent.

"Don't worry about getting him into trouble," he reassured him. "I'm not in the position of inform the school of anything you tell me here."

"Ok…" Elliot said. Part of him still wanted to remain silent. But he was already keeping quiet about the drug situation. At least this one wasn't a huge secret. "Well, he… almost always goes to the field at break and lunch to smoke, and he gets… really quite irritable if he can't, for some reason…"

"Hm… interesting…" he muttered. "Do you notice any behavioural changes from the Prozac? I know we diagnosed him with IED last time he was here."

"He doesn't take it," Emma confessed, sheepishly. Tears began brimming at her eyes; for many reasons, it seemed, and once again, Elliot was overwhelmed with sympathy. Guilt again, even. "I can't _force_ him to, and he just… straight up refuses."

"Um, sorry to interject, but…" Once again, Elliot's curiosity got the better of him. "What's … 'IED'?"

" _Intermittent Explosive Disorder,_ " the doctor recalled, flicking through the pages of the DSM. "It's characterised by recurrent behavioural outbursts representing a failure to control aggressive impulses." His focus returned to Emma. "This still occurs, yes?"

She sniffed, and nodded discreetly. "Almost every day, over such… trivial things. But, um… a lot of them stem from money. Cash goes missing a lot, and…"

"I know it's difficult to comprehend, but your son shows very addict-like behaviour. Even though the drug test came back clean, you may have to come to terms with the fact it's highly likely he is at least experimenting with – if not regularly using – illegal drugs."

"I-I know…"

"Alright, my colleagues should have finished questioning him now. I will go and get him, and then we'll have a chat about a few things."

"Thank you…" she sighed, exhaling exhaustedly and leaning back in the sofa the moment he left. Then, she turned to Elliot. "I'm sorry he's dragged you into all of this."

"I… I don't mind…" Elliot said, but laughed regretfully, at himself, a second later. "I… had a very pampered childhood, so… sure, it feels strange to see things like _this_ , but… I'm… intrigued, I guess."

"If he ever becomes too much, I just want you to know that you can walk away-"

"It's fine, Emma. I can handle him."

Flashing him a grateful smile, she soon turned her gaze to the floor, waiting in silence for Leo to return. And, less than a minute later, he did, sauntering into the room and dropping onto the opposite sofa.

Briefly, he shot an indecipherable glance at Elliot, before leaning his head in the palm of his hand, resting on the side of the sofa, and bringing his knees slanted up to his chest.

"Leo, would you like to keep your mum here?"

Leo paused, thought for a second, and grunted something under his breath. "No."

As if she'd expected nothing less, Emma stood up instantly, smiling sadly but thankfully at both Elliot and the doctor. Without another word, she left, leaving the teens alone with the doctor.

"Elliot, are you staying?"

"He is," Leo answered for him, drawing in a shallow, shaky breath. "How much longer do I have to be here?"

"Not much longer," the doctor tried to reassure him, pulling out his clipboard and picking up the pen. "So, your mum tells me you aren't taking the medication we gave you? Why's that?"

"It's addictive," he said sulkily. Abruptly, he stood up, took two steps forward, and collapsed onto the sofa next to Elliot, curling back up against his shoulder. Elliot didn't even flinch.

"We have already explained this." He tried not to sound impatient, but obviously was growing so. "You would be weened of it where the discontinuation syndrome would be virtually non-existent."

"I'm not falling for your bullshit this time."

Elliot froze.

 _… "_ _this time?"_

"We'll have to discuss this next time, and find another solution, since our pharmacist is busy at the minute," he explained. "Your mum also told me that you're still smoking as much? Have you made any attempt to quit since our discussion last time?"

Leo began jostling his leg against Elliot's, letting out a heavy, irritated sigh. It was blatantly clear that he wasn't having any of this, and that his patience and self-control was wearing incredibly thin. "No. And I'm not going to, so stop _trying_ to convince me to."

The doctor visibly supressed a sigh. "You've lost a significant amount of weight since your last check-up, as well."

"Do I look like a give a shit?" Leo snapped, but didn't move. His tone was just bitter, efficiently conveying the message of _'fuck off'_. "No, I didn't think so."

"Leo, your health is rapidly deteriorating. The more you don't tell us what's going on, the more we'll have to push and do tests-"

"Fine, then yes!" he blurted out, peeling himself away from Elliot's shoulder.

"Leo…!" Elliot hissed under his breath. "What are you-"

"Yes to what?" the doctor interrupted him hastily, placing the clipboard down and simply listening.

"The drugs, for fuck's sake!" He yelled, grabbing the arm of the chair as support as he stood up, wavering for a bit. Tears were visibly pouring down his face, but he continued yelling anyway. "Yes, I've been using drugs. Yes, I'm addicted. And _yes_ , I _know_ it's killing me! But I can't do anything about it now, and it's your fault anyway!"

Elliot hung onto that last comment as he followed Leo towards the door, shooting an apologetic glance at the doctor when Leo picked up the nearest object, which happened to be a book, and threw it at him. It narrowly missed him, but before the doctor could call after them, they'd both fled from the room.

"We're leaving," Leo declared, sobbing uncontrollably as they passed his mother. "Come on! I'm not staying here any longer!"

"Leo, we can't just-"

"Yes we can!" he countered, kicking open the door. It didn't matter to him that everyone was staring at them in dead silence. "I refuse to listen to more of their lies! I-I don't trust what they say, and nothing can change that! Nothing can change _any_ of that!" He paused, panting for breath, his tears hitching in his throat. "Now please… can we _leave_?!"

With little choice left, Emma nodded, frantically pulling out her car keys and leaving in total silence.

Meanwhile, tailing them was Elliot, still clinging onto one single thought.

 _How was it… their fault…?_

* * *

In the car, things didn't get much better.

First of all, Leo hadn't stopped crying since they left the hospital. Instead, he'd curled up across Elliot's lap in the back of the car, shaking more than the other could even comprehend, and clutching his stomach in total agony.

It broke Elliot's heart to see him in this much pain, really. He couldn't _begin_ to think what it must be like for his mother to witness this, and worse: not even know _why_ this was happening.

Tear stains continued growing on the fabric at his lap, where Leo was crying silently still. And once again, Elliot was left questioning why he'd pushed him into doing this. Couldn't he have just stayed quiet?

Suddenly, he froze, before scrambling to sit up, wrapping a hand around Elliot's wrist.

Elliot registered the urgency, but couldn't figure out what it was for.

"Mum…" he said, inhaling an unsteady breath and clenching his fists. Elliot winced, yet remained silent anyway, allowing the other to speak. "Can you please… pullover somewhere?" He stopped again, suppressing gag and subsequently letting out another strained sob. "I… I need a minute."

Emma, already fighting back tears and a breakdown, grit her teeth, breathing out a heavy sigh. "Yes, ok! But I'm not stopping this car until you tell me the truth!"

"You don't _need_ to know!" he snapped.

"I'm your mother, for Christ's sake! Of course I do!" she yelled, and then tried to gather her composure. Tentatively, she drew in a deep breath, calming down just barely enough to ask one single question. "L-Leo… please tell me, _honestly_ , have you… _are_ you using drugs?"

There was a short, but tense pause.

"Alright yes!" Leo yelled, staring out the window with tears streaming down his face once again. "Yes, I have! I have been using drugs and I'm not proud of it but it is what it is and I can't... _do anything_ about it now! So please, stop the fucking car!"

The car fell silence instantly, Leo panting furiously.

Eyes brimming with tears, his mother nodded, in total shock. "O-Okay… I'll… I'll stop somewhere."

"Thank you…" Leo exhaled, keeping a hand near his mouth until they stopped, which – fortunately – was only a minute after the extremely awkward revelation.

The very moment the car came to a halt, Leo kicked the door open, hurriedly scrambling out of the vehicle and wrapping his arms around his chest. Steps uneven, he hastily staggered towards the hoard of trees at the side of the dual carriageway. Elliot soon followed, flashing a grateful, apologetic smile at Emma before slamming the door behind him.

Thankfully, he found Leo pretty quickly, crying out loud now against one of the falling down trees.

"Hey, Leo, shh…" Elliot tried to calm him, bringing his head to his chest and allowing him to sob into it for a bit.

However, not long after, Leo brusquely pulled away, pacing for a few moments and then scanning the area frantically. "W-We… I-I feel really sick right now… we need to find somewhere more private."

Elliot, acknowledging that most of the people passing by (and his mother) could see them right now, immediately followed, stopping the moment Leo halted, right in front of a barbed wire fence, presumably leading to the rest of the field.

There was a 3 second margin of error from when Leo grabbed the wooden post of the fence, leant over the wire (which was only waist height, thankfully), and threw up, tears continuously escaping his eyes with each gag.

Once again, Elliot couldn't feel anything by sympathy. Pain was an understatement, and he truly could not imagine what it felt like to lose control of every part of your body like that.

It was, unfortunately, quite obvious to both of them that, for the next few days, they would have to get used to this.

As expected, it took at least 5 minutes for Leo to have completely voided the acid and bile from his stomach, leaving him as a breathless, exhausted mess, hunched over the barbed wire and barely conscious. Tears, to no surprise, continued to pour down his cheeks, every sob tugging on Elliot's guilt just a little more each time.

"Hey… let's… go back now, and then we'll… go home…"

"No, just…" Leo panted, screwing his eyes shut and gripping the wire until he stopped shaking. "Give me… a minute…"

Elliot nodded, waiting until he was able to finally pull away from the fence and stagger back in the direction of the car. Part of the way there, he silently pulled out an already rolled cigarette, pausing in his tracks to light it with very little precision. Eventually, after a few tries, he was able to keep the lighter on and still for long enough to light up and take the first, long drag. And Elliot he remembered correctly, it was the first time he'd seen Leo not crying in the last couple of hours.

The two stood, without saying a word to each other, just behind the first row of trees, Leo struggling to smoke the cigarette but managing, barely. Once he was done, he chucked aside the finished cigarette, exhaled what was left, and started making his way back to the car, turning back to Elliot to check he was actually following.

"Why did I tell her…?" Leo wondered aloud, new tears already brimming at his eyes again, his wet lashes clumping together behind his glasses. "She's not… it has _nothing_ to do with h-her…"

Elliot desperately wanted to ask for more information, but even _he_ knew that would be ludicrous. "Hey, shh… you were thinking irrationally, a-and… you still are."

"Good luck to you then," Leo tried to sound sarcastic, however sobbed midway through the sentence, and it sounded more genuine than caustic. "You've got another… _72 hours_ of this, _shit_."

"Uh, yeah…" Elliot stuttered, opening the car door again and letting Leo's head lull onto his lap again the moment his mother started driving again. A heavy silence consumed the vehicle, just like last time.

Elliot sighed, and gently began running his fingers through Leo's matted, dishevelled hair, splayed over his lap. His stomach churned at the thought of the next few days.

 _What have I…_

 _Why am I even_ doing _this?_


	11. Chapter 11

_**(A/Ns: wow, look at me, updating in like... only 19 days. for some reason, writing Leo swearing is so strange. oh, and after writing it so many times, you'd think i was used to writing withdrawal right now. but im not. it still makes me super sad.**_

 _ **please drop a review if you can! :D**_

 _ **content warnings: drugs, smoking, withdrawal, vomiting (more of it), mentions of diarrhoea i think, swearing, violence, mentions of overdose, implications of suicide. yes, im portraying opiate withdrawal as it, unfortunately, is.**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Finally – _finally –_ that car journey from hell was coming to an end.

Fortunately, the journey had only taken them another 20 minutes or so. But in that time, Leo had managed to successfully cry more tears than Elliot knew was humanly possible, _and_ had had to ask his mother to pull over once again. Which was, sure enough, spent with him hunched over at the side of the dual carriageway, throwing up, with Elliot holding his hair back and trying so desperately not to cringe.

So, really, it was a miracle they even made it back.

The moment they pulled up to the driveway, Leo shot up, scrambling out of the car and slamming the door on Elliot. As expected, he didn't utter a single word to his mother, who still appeared to be supressing tears behind a barely-present façade of "I'm fine".

"Y-You can leave him, if you want…" she whispered, the quiver in her words gut-wrenchingly obvious. "He… I-I have to go back to work, but um…"

"He needs me there," Elliot said, lacking the confidence he'd intended to add when he planned those words. Because the truth was, he _wasn't_ confident. Not in the slightest. And the hand he placed on the door handle was shaking. "I'll… I'll go now."

Hastily, Emma nodded, chewing her lower lip at the sight of Leo tripping over himself all the way from the car to the front door. She felt to blame, entirely; purely for not noticing when and how things went wrong.

Meanwhile, outside, Elliot had successfully caught up with Leo. By the time he had, however, Leo was more or less by the door anyway, with one hand wrapped around his stomach. He hunched over, leaning against the wall and tapping his foot impatiently.

"Open it," he said, and then promptly thrust the keys at Elliot with shaking hands. "Turn left. And hurry _up_."

"I'm trying!" Elliot yelped, struggling to turn the key as he'd been rather brusquely instructed to do. Eventually, though, he was able to open it.

The very second the door was open even a tiny bit, Leo shoved Elliot out the way, darting up the stairs with what little energy he had left. Elliot grimaced; he was either sick, or something else slightly grimmer. But regardless, he got the hint, and decided to leave him alone for the moment.

Everything was still a huge shock to him. The withdrawal, the hospital situation, the truly toxic relationship Leo had with his mother. And what was he doing during all of this? _Helping_ him?

Absurd.

But when it came down to it, everything Leo had been forced into was _his_ fault. _He_ was the one who found the drugs. _He_ was the one who'd told Break. _He_ was the one who'd confronted him. And lastly, _he_ was the one who'd told him to detox.

All of that was what he had to repeat to himself every goddamn time he questioned internally why the _hell_ he was doing this. And it was a question he'd had to ask himself a _lot_.

Instead of dwelling on it _again_ , however, Elliot simply took a deep breath, and refocused his attention on the task at hand.

First and foremost was where Leo would want to stay for the next 72 hours. His bathroom was upstairs, but his room didn't really give much space for the two of them.

… maybe he should just leave that decision up to Leo.

Instead, he stayed with the simple stuff, drawing in another deep breath and proceeding to the kitchen. Their lack of... well, _things_ truly transcended what Elliot had initially believed. They only had 3 bottles of water left, and a tiny bucket under the sink which would have to suffice. Really, Elliot was thankful that they weren't too short of cleaning supplies, because, for some reason, his gut instinct was telling him they'd need them.

Upstairs was looking no more promising. The bathroom door was bolted shut, and Elliot could probably hear a pin drop with how silent it was. Silent, and off-putting.

Tentatively, he knocked on the bathroom door. "Leo? Are you-?"

"Give me a second!" he called out, and Elliot wasn't sure if his tone was supposed to convey aggression, or pain. Probably both, actually. "And don't you dare come in here!"

Taking the hint once again, Elliot proceeded to his bedroom. His stuff was all over the place, but given the state Leo usually left his room in, he didn't have much incentive to try and tidy up a bit.

No less than a minute later, Leo returned. His footsteps were totally silent, and Elliot wouldn't have noticed he'd even returned if he hadn't have thrown the glass of water from the shelf at him.

"Hey!" he yelped, turning around to find Leo already sprawled across the bed and entangled in the sheets like he'd done nothing wrong. "What the hell was that for?!" Then, his view focused, and he finally saw the tears falling down his face, and the shaking which wracked his entire frail form. Thus, once again, Elliot was speechless. "Oh…"

"This is your fault," Leo muttered, his voice breaking midway through the accusation.

"I-I know, and I'm sorry," Elliot apologised, trying his best to sound sincere. He _knew_ he was in pain, and suffering. But for _his_ own sake, as well, he had to do this. He sighed, and softened his tone. "Is there anything I can get?"

"40 milligrams of Oxy…" Leo grunted, burying his face in the crevasse of his mountain of pillows.

"… perhaps not…" Elliot was unsure of how to even respond to that. "Do you, um, want to go downstairs?"

"No," Leo blatantly refused, shooting an uneasy glance at the door. "I'm staying within running distance of the bathroom for now."

"O-Ok…" Elliot stammered. He paused for a moment.

"To be as polite as possible," Leo said bluntly, making it inherently obvious that what he was about to say was _not_ polite. "Piss off."

Elliot obliged wordlessly.

Having time to themselves couldn't hurt – for _either_ of them, that was.

He hoped that much, at least.

* * *

It had been more or less six hours since Elliot had last seen Leo conscious.

After leaving him earlier, he'd decided to make things easier for himself, simply by distracting himself with the mountain of unfinished assignments he had. Usually, in a normal week, he'd complete all homework the day it was set.

This week, however, had _not_ been a very normal week.

Every couple of hours or so, despite trying to work, Elliot had surrendered to his persistent, frankly irritating worrying, and gone to check on Leo, only to find that he was still passed out. Passed out, tangled around the sheets, and shaking and sweating more than Elliot knew was possible.

It was now 5pm, and after an entire day of work, he was left with nothing to do.

Conveniently (or perhaps the opposite), at that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps pattering against the floor above him loudened. He sighed, faceplanting the table before checking his watch.

If Leo hadn't taken the opioid blocker – which after in-depth research, he finally understood – he wouldn't even have finished the acute withdrawal yet, considering it hadn't been longer than 24 hours since his last dose. Or "fix", you could say.

However, unfortunately, he _had_ taken the opioid blocker, meaning it was impossible to track how far into the process he was, and likewise, how much longer it would be.

With another heavy, exhausted sigh, Elliot stood up, stretching lethargically before dragging a hand through his hair and preparing himself for whatever onslaught of verbal abuse he'd receive when he attempted to offer the other help.

Once he was upstairs, Leo was exactly where he'd expected to find him: hunched over the toilet, with his head heavily over the bowl. His breaths were sharp, and wracked, his entire form trembling as his knuckles gripped the side of the bowl until they turned white. What was unusual about _this_ time was that both doors were wide open.

It took about a minute for Leo to stop throwing up, and be able to form coherent sentence without passing out. Wavering, he panted, and spoke with painfully evident breathlessness in his words. "Don't come near me," he said, swallowing back another retch. "And leave… the bed as it is. I'll… clean it later."

Internally, Elliot bluntly scoffed a very dismissive " _fuck that_ ". If Leo thought he was getting through this without any help, then he'd be damned.

Even if it was grim, and disgusting, like he was sure it would be, Elliot merely reminded himself that this was _his fault_.

"Don't be stupid," he said, proceeding to bathroom and holding his breath as he poured a glass of water and handed it to Leo. Gratefully, Leo took the glass, immediately lowering the hand holding the drink onto the toilet seat; he didn't have enough strength to hold it, and only seeing this made Elliot feel somehow worse. If that were even _possible_ at this point.

Before Leo could protest, Elliot headed straight for the bedroom.

"I _said,_ don't go i-"

As expected Leo yelled after him anyway, but was brusquely cut off by a harsh gag.

Once he stepped past the threshold, it became obvious how the last couple of hours he'd spent unattended had _actually_ gone. And internally, Elliot felt infuriated that he hadn't even _tried_ to call for help.

Firstly, there was vomit. _A lot_ of it. Clearly, his strength hadn't been enough for him to make it to the bathroom until now. And there were the sheets, soaked in a foul-smelling mixture of sweat and God-knows-what-else. Elliot grimaced; he didn't really _want_ to think about what else, because he was fairly certain _what_ it was and really didn't _want_ to think about it.

Instead, he pinched his nose, tried not to pay too much attention to the stained sheets, and peeled the covers and sheets off. Scrunched up into a ball, the sheets were no longer a painful reminder of the reality of the situation, and Elliot was able to take them downstairs and shove them in the washing machine without feeling even more guilty than he already did.

Then, when he spun around to leave the kitchen and return to Leo, he froze in his tracks, his heart pounding at the sudden click of the front door. And, sure enough, stepping through the door was his mother, the worry-stricken expression still cast across his face.

"Oh, h-hi," Elliot jumped out of his skin a little, shifting where he stood on the spot. "Sorry, I wasn't… really expecting you, t-to be honest."

"Yes, well… um… my boss… refused to let me go home," she confessed, sheepishly, as she closed the door behind her and faced Elliot. "How… um, how has he been?"

Elliot drew in a deep breath, and spent at least 5 seconds forming his response, only for him to choke out one word rather pathetically. "Decent…"

Concern returned to her gaze. "I've been worried sick about him, especially since I'm not sure, you know… _what_ he's even taking…"

"Yeah…" _Stupid response._

"Thank you for doing this. Really, I-I mean that." With anguish and guilt still clear in her eyes, she somehow cracked a smile, regardless. "I want to be there for him, but I think it's just a little… a little too late for-"

"Get out."

Both their heads whipped around to the source of the noise the moment it sounded, and Emma began to tremble visibly. As they'd mutually known, it was Leo, who'd changed clothes since the incident only recently and at some point rolled a cigarette, which was now clutched between two fingers in his right hand.

"L-Leo," she said, trying to smile but ultimately failing. "I-I'm sorry I had to work. But please, l-let me help y-"

"I _said,_ get the _fuck out_!" Leo yelled again, descending two steps nearer to the bottom. "You have _no idea_ what this is like for _me_! So if you really want the self-satisfaction of thinking you've _helped_ me in some way, get _out_!"

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could utter a single word, the glass of water in Leo's left hand was promptly launched at her. It narrowly missed her head, instead smashing against the door and crumbling onto the floor into a hundred shards of glass.

With little left to say or do, Emma turned around and left again, and the tears evident in her eyes prodded at Elliot's guiltiness even more.

"You shouldn't have done that," Elliot scolded, folding his arms over.

Leo, however, had totally frozen, his eyes widening behind the glasses which barely clung to his face anymore. Then, in a split second, he cursed " _shit_ " under his breath, dropped the cigarette, and darted back upstairs.

Exhaling, Elliot took the hint, and once again left him be for a bit. After retrieving a bucket, towel, and a bottle of water, only then did he follow him back upstairs, picking up and pocketing the cigarette under the premise that'd he'd need it at some point or another.

Surprisingly, Leo wasn't crouched in front of (or on) the toilet this time, but was rather in his bed already, curled around a towel and shaking like there was no tomorrow.

His breathing was unsteady, but at _least_ he was asleep.

Without making a sound, Elliot crept over to the bed, laid down another towel, and placed the bucket on the floor beside the bed. Then, he cleaned out the bathroom, and made dinner for himself without once disturbing the other.

Surely _that_ was the _least_ he could do.

* * *

The whole ethos of doing all he could for Leo because this was supposedly his fault was beginning to crumble when Elliot was woken up at 4am.

To… screaming?

Groggily, he sat up, a dizzy spell hypnotising him for a few seconds. Outside was pitch black, the bitter nightly breeze cutting through the open windows. He shivered, tried to lie back down, and then heard Leo screaming again.

 _Great…_

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Elliot soon mustered up the courage to stand up, and go and check on Leo.

His muscles ached, and a dull headache had accumulated in his forehead, making him wince at the light at the top of the stairs; not to mention the throbbing pain he experienced in his head whenever Leo screamed again. This should've only _been_ just over 24 hours.

But no – Leo had taken this stupid opioid-blocker. So, in actuality, this was more like 48 hours. And Elliot hung onto that thought when he stepped into Leo's bedroom and prepared himself for the state he'd be in.

Sure enough, what he discovered transcended what any online diary would tell you about opiate withdrawal.

Like earlier, Leo was curled up on the bed, tears visibly streaming down his face. His head was effectively buried in his chest, his entire body hunched. Hands trembling, he clutched his stomach in agony. The epitome of suffering really, only amplified by the sweat coating his pale, clammy skin.

Elliot merely sighed; ultimately – no matter how shitty it sounded – he'd been desensitised to this. Despite all that, however, concern was still evident in his words. "What's wrong now?"

It took a few seconds for Leo to snap out of his hysterical state, turn over, and shoot a vicious, piercing, some may say _threatening_ glare at Elliot. But the moment he twisted, he winced, hissing through gritted teeth as more tears escaped from his eyes when he blinked. "Cramps…" His voice cracked. It was inherently obvious how _frustrated_ he was growing from this. "And my back. _Shit_."

A sickening feeling in Elliot's gut told him he should've questioned that, but instead, all he could muster up the courage to do was silently traipse over to Leo. Perching on the side of the bed, he tentatively lifted a hand, dragging his fingers through Leo's hair.

Leo winced. He was far too weak, mind you, at this point to resist. His breaths turned shallow, and Elliot thought for a moment he might throw up again; the bucket was almost full. He grimaced, however – fortunately – Leo didn't move a single muscle. Too painful, he assumed.

"Do you… want to come downstairs?" Elliot wrinkled his nose at the state of the bedroom. A scenery change would most likely benefit both of them.

Just barely, Leo nodded, sniffing before drawing in a deep breath to calm himself. It was a futile attempt, but at least he was able to stop sobbing. Shivering still, he allowed Elliot to cover his shaking form with yet another blanket. Then, with idle, glazed eyes, he watched Elliot leave, bringing the bucket with him and visibly holding his breath.

Meanwhile, it took Elliot at least 5 minutes to clean out and bleach that goddamn bucket, gagging under breath at the smell everywhere. His nerves really wore thin, but complaining about his trivial, first world problems to Leo would just be mean.

So, he (reluctantly) bit them back, and traipsed downstairs, all the while mentally preparing himself for the ambush of aggressive insults and whining he expected to receive once again.

What he found at the bottom of the stairs was more or less the _opposite._

Leo hadn't made it to the lounge. Instead, he'd collapsed, and had curled up against the bottom step, barely conscious but still shaking horribly. His breathing was wracked, strained, _painful._

Wordlessly, Elliot extended an arm to him, crouching down to meet his eye level. Remaining totally still, Leo only just opened one eye to glance at the other. His eyebrows furrowed; even half conscious, he was evidently bitter at the other.

Nevertheless, he grabbed Elliot's hand, allowing himself to be hauled up and dragged over to the sofa. And he collapsed yet again, landing on Elliot's lap with an audible thump.

Elliot rolled his eyes internally at the first sign of tears.

No. He had to stay patient. He was the whole _reason_ for this.

It was strange to see Leo's guard so down. He'd become so accustomed to him being snappy, snarky, but guarded. Whatever he felt inside would be covered with a humorous, sarcastic façade. So, to see him cry like this was… uncharacteristic. And concerning, really; Elliot did _want_ to fathom how bad this had actually gotten, to the point where all he could do was sob incoherently.

And cry he did.

It must've been an hour and a half before Leo stopped sobbing, Elliot having almost fallen asleep multiple times. But instead, neither had said a single word, Elliot simply running his fingers through his matted, dishevelled hair, and Leo crying to himself into Elliot's lap.

It didn't seem right.

But once again, all Elliot could do was remind himself that _he_ was the one who got Leo into this mess. So, rightfully, _he_ had to deal with it.

Then, for the first time in an hour and a half, Leo silenced.

Elliot glanced right, the rising sun glinting through the windows, declaring officially that it was the next day. _It was the next day._ Which meant, somehow, with a miracle and a half, they're made it through the first day. He smiled, a slightly warm feeling spreading across his chest. They'd gotten through the first _day_.

That was progress, right?

Flitting his eyes back down to Leo, Elliot sighed internally.

Was this _really_ progress?

"Are… you ready to tell me what that was all about?"

Leo, blinking the tears out of his eyes, exhaled a shaking breath, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. Sheepishly, he murmured, "I don't want to do this anymore."

Elliot's blood ran cold. "W-Why? We've gotten… so far."

"It hurts. Everything just _hurts_." His words were slowly turning to aggression. Impatience for Elliot's ignorance, he thought. "And this _bullshit_ isn't even the hardest part. After this, you'll expect me to stay… clean."

"Would you really want to go through this _again_?"

Once again, Leo responded with that bitter, sarcastic laugh, which served as a warning to Elliot that he was pushing it. "You'd be surprised. I'd go to hell and back to use again."

"Right…" Elliot stammered.

At least his question had an answer now: they hadn't _really_ made progress.

"Do you want to eat?"

"No."

"Too bad, you need to," Elliot countered, waiting for Leo to lean out of the way and slump back against the sofa. "What do you want?"

Leo didn't say anything for a moment, and then he froze, his eyes doubling in size behind the mop of hair covering his face. "The bucket."

"… right," Elliot said, hastily bringing the bucket and blankets downstairs from where they'd been thrown on his floor.

Then, blocking out the sounds from the living room, he proceeded to the kitchen, remembering he needed to take care of himself at some point in this process, as well.

* * *

It was now 10am, the morning having gone stupidly slowly.

Leo had, strangely, eaten. Of course, he'd thrown it up half an hour later, which was why Elliot was currently thoroughly cleaning the kitchen. Everything reeked of bleach.

Leo's mother hadn't returned since yesterday, either. Which meant Elliot was irascible, his patience very thin now. And the relentless headache which hadn't left since yesterday was only exacerbated by the fact Leo had spent the last 3 hours on the lounge, crying out in pain again. Every time Elliot intervened, or tried to ask what the problem was, all he got in response was a book being thrown across the room at him.

He guessed it was something to do with his back, given that he'd been hunched up in all sorts of weird positions. But he couldn't be sure, and whenever he asked – surprise, surprise – something was launched at him.

Currently, Leo was outside, wrapped up in several blankets after complaining he really needed a smoke. How he could pay attention to something so trivial in a time like this, Elliot had no clue.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, however, and he dropped the kitchen cloth, the front door slammed shut, followed by the sound of Leo's clumsy footsteps hastily ascending the stairs. Then, the bathroom door shut, echoing down the stairs, and Elliot sure enough got the hint.

He gave him five minutes, before finishing the cleaning and heading up the stairs. Just as he reached the top, the bathroom door clicked open.

Leo, leaning dependently on the door frame, staggered out, drenched in sweat and panting. Elliot physically wrinkled his nose; more cleaning would be in order, it seemed. And no matter how spoilt it sounded, he really wasn't used to doing these sorts of things, for others _or_ himself.

"Do you want a bath?"

"No," Leo grunted, grabbing a random blanket from his bedroom floor and curling up on the bed, resuming his violent shivering. "Fuck. It's freezing."

"It's 25 degrees in here."

In response to that comment, Leo picked up the glass of water from the bedside table, and threw it at Elliot. Elliot visibly bit back a yelp, wordlessly wiping himself off.

The sound of heart wrenching sobs pulled his attention back to Leo, the other having become wracked with tears once again.

"Hey, look… I'm sorry," Elliot sighed. Overcome with guilt, he took two steps toward the other.

"It's not your fault," Leo spat, his voice breaking. He sniffed, but resumed crying a moment later. "I never _asked_ for this to happen. This shouldn't have… happened to _me_."

Elliot was speechless. The other seemed to exponentially be getting worse, somehow, and no matter how he got into drugs, he did _not_ deserve to be going through this.

Going through being so… broken. And desperate for just _one thing,_ having become so distant from himself. And what _for_? He was never even high, right?

"There's no fucking point," Leo hissed, and Elliot cocked an eyebrow ever so slightly. He'd never heard Leo swear this much. He might have been unsettled, but he never conveyed that explicitly. The noirette sobbed again, and continued speaking. "I'd rather _die_ that go through this shit, and that's _not_ even an exaggeration. I'm sick of this shit already."

At that, Elliot froze.

"Now _leave_ ," he snarled, glaring daggers at Elliot. "You're not helping."

Wordlessly, and slightly hurt by Leo's comment, Elliot turned on his heel, and left; reminding himself that Leo was thinking, and speaking irrationally. Right?

Well, if detoxing had left him with nothing by aggression and thoughts of suicide, then he _definitely_ hadn't been ready for this.

* * *

Now, Elliot was starting to get worried.

Over the past 24 hours, as things had progressively gotten worse and worse, the house had been more or less filled with Leo either screaming and crying out in agony, or running to and from the bathroom. That was normal. He could cope with that, and so he had – slightly irritably, at that.

The past 4 hours, however, right around from 3pm to now, had been filled with total silence. At 3pm or so, Leo had been asleep. And he was genuinely exhausted, so Elliot left him.

But now, he was worried. Why had Leo been so _silent_ all of a sudden?

Usually, he would've spent his Sunday evening finishing work for the next day. Which, in all fairness, he had been _trying_ to do. But the concern stirring in the pit of his stomach was far too distracting.

Because every shuffle, every creak, every _sound_ from upstairs – he heard it.

Enough was enough. There was _no chance_ Leo was still just asleep; this was supposed to be the worse stage.

As he began to climb the stairs, a wave of nausea washed over Elliot.

Opiate withdrawal wasn't _deadly_ … right?

 _Surely_ he can't have died. He'd… he'd have asked for help if things got that bad, right?

… right?

Elliot swallowed, unable to convince himself so. Guilt overwhelmed him once again, so much so that he began to grow lightheaded.

His gaze fell on the bathroom door. It was locked.

"Leo…?" he called, fully aware of the tremble in his words.

The silence exacerbated his anxiety, but _finally,_ after a terribly long pause, there was a quiet, almost inaudible shuffle and sniff from the bathroom. Miniscule, however enough to convince him that Leo was at least _alive_.

"Leo, what the _hell_ are you doing in there?!" Elliot yelled after him, half out of frustration and half out of concern.

All there was in response was another shuffle, and then the distinct sound of…

Crying?

Elliot's heart began to beat needlessly faster. A sickening feeling of anxiety overcame him, and he approached the door, and positioned his hand over the handle and knocked lightly on the door; just to signal to the other that he was right outside.

But Leo did not respond.

"Leo?"

Silence, a shuffle, and another sob. Then, finally, he spoke.

"I gave up."

Elliot froze.

He hoped and _prayed_ to whatever mythical deity was out there that Leo was joking in some way, but the raw, utter, shameful truth in his words said otherwise.

Anger and annoyance boiled up inside him, his fist clenching around the handle. "Open this door right now! After all the crap I've done for you, I _rightfully deserve_ to know what's going on!"

The floor on the other side of the door creaked. Three seconds later, the door clicked, and was then slowly – hesitantly – pulled open by Leo.

Immediately, Elliot's eyes hastily scanned the other up and down. Something was definitely not right. His hands no longer shook. His skin was no longer glazed by a permanent sheen of sweat. His complexion was… well, _not_ sickeningly pale.

And then his eyes flitted down, and he locked his gaze on the syringe in the corner of the bathroom.

The _empty_ syringe.

Suddenly, it all made sense. It hit him like a sack of bricks, but it made sense.

Leo had relapsed.

And he felt his blood boil.

"Look, I know what you're thinking," Leo tried, holding his hands – his _still_ hands – up in defence, staggering back a step. "Can I please _explain_ myself?"

Elliot frowned, and furrowed his eyebrows at the other. Because he was utterly, undeniably, _irrefutably_ pissed. "You have 30 seconds to explain yourself before I _leave_!"

"How the _hell_ can you just leave when you're the one who dragged me into this shit?!" Leo snapped, retracing his step back and glaring accusingly up at Elliot with constricted pupils and a glare which bluntly screamed _"fuck you"._ "Do you have any clue how hard _any_ of that shit was for me?! I was shaking more than I even thought was possible! Did you even see the crap that was coming out of me?! I'm talking about both ends here, Elliot! You might've been _helping_ me, but _I'm_ the one who had to go through all that!"

"I have cleaned up your vomit, your sweat, your literal shit! Does that mean _nothing_ to you?!"

"Of course it means _something_!" Leo screamed back, his voice cracking from the tears now pouring down his face. "But there's no way in _hell_ you're getting my sympathy when I'm the one who was suffering!"

"We were in this _together_!" Elliot felt himself begin to tremble with the rage coursing through his veins. He felt useless, guilty, ashamed, upset – and this concoction of emotions combined with 3 hours of sleep was _not_ good. "Fuck you, alright! You didn't even _try_!"

"The relapse rates of opiate addicts are over 90%! You were _ignorant_ and _naïve_ to assume I'd be able to do it first try. You were _presumptuous,_ as always!"

"Where the _hell_ did you even get the drugs?!" Elliot interrogated. "I was _there_ when you flushed them, for Christ's sake!"

"I hid some, okay?! I-I had some of the… the pills from when I started, hence I didn't overdose… a-and they were hidden," Leo confessed, each and every one of his emotional walls breaking down within him. "I'm sorry-"

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I clearly wasn't enough for you to get through this."

"Elliot, the drugs have absolutely _nothing_ to do with you!" Leo tried, chasing him into his bedroom. "It took more than you to get me addicted to them, so it'll take more than you to get me off them! So stop trying to make this all about _you_!"

"I'm leaving," he declared, hurriedly snatching his belongings from the floor. "And you can't change my mind, so don't try! I'm exhausted, a-and emotionally drained! I don't care if this was hard on you as well! I have to take care of _myself_ at some point! And… and I can't do that _here_ when you've just gone back to slowly _killing yourself_!"

"I'm sorry, okay?! I'll try again! But please…" The sudden softness in Leo's words was heart-wrenching. "… don't leave! You're the only person I've ever _felt_ something towards! You're the first person who's ever meant anything to me!"

The words he spoke were being poured directly from his heart, and Elliot could tell. But he was tired, remorseful beyond belief at everything he'd put Leo through, and _fed up_ , and it just wasn't enough to convince him to stay.

And Leo was a mess, too.

Maybe they _both_ needed some time away from each other.

"Goodbye, Leo," Elliot said, turning towards the stairs and proceeding straight in that direction. "W-When you're ready, we can… try this again…"

Then, without another word, he descended the stairs, the front door slamming shut a moment later.

With tear stains streaked down his face, Leo simply _broke_ , exhaling a heavy sigh. His hands began to shake, but purely out of the self-hate and _embarrassment_ he felt towards himself.

Supressing the urge to throw something or punch someone, he sauntered over the door, kicking it shut before grabbing his cigarettes from the shelf and pulling one out he'd already rolled. And, with it stuck between his lips, he lit it, breathing in deeper than he could ever remember.

The nicotine rush to his head was hardly enough to alleviate the burden of the friendship he'd just destroyed from the forefront of his mind.

He felt trapped. His life had been totally ruined at this point. There was no chance he'd ever break the horrid, bitter, _vile_ cycle of addiction he was so deeply stuck in.

But Elliot had left now, anyway. None of that mattered.

And there was no point in being sober, either.

With hands which were no longer shaking, Leo picked up his phone from the bedside table, loading up the only conversation on his messages that mattered right now.

 ** _[To D, 19:17]  
_** _when can i get the next order_


	12. Chapter 12

_**(A/Ns: Updating in 16 days, with the longest chapter yet of about 7,700 words. Definitely a personal record. Anyway! Yes, this is an important chapter. Very important indeed. Everything's going well, Elliot gets disclosure on Leo's past, and then... everything just goes to shit. haha. sorry. On the plus side, the teachers are getting more screentime now xD.**_

 _ **Please drop a review if you can! :D**_

 _ **Content warnings: smoking, drugs, drug addiction, mentions of suicide, mentions of bipolar, mentions of vomiting, mentions of withdrawal, overdose, prescription drug abuse, homophobia, and some quality, well-deserved Elleo content.**_

 ** _Disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

For the past two weeks, Leo hadn't shown up to school.

The first week he took off was to be expected. Elliot knew that. He would still be recovering from the weekend. And Elliot felt guilty; incredibly so. How could he have just _walked out_ on Leo? He'd tried so hard, and failed. And he just _left_? No _wonder_ Leo hadn't shown up. He needed space, and time to recover from going to hell and back trying to detox from OxyContin.

The second week he was absent, however, stirred more questions.

Sure enough, it was also at this point that Break confronted him about what'd happened the previous weekend. Their entire conversation had been – he hoped – confidential. Even Oz hadn't shown up, and it was weird to see Break taking something seriously for once. Weird, suspicious, but also strangely comforting for some reason.

Had he gone back to drugs? Had he continued detox? Had he gone to rehab? Gone to prison? Told his mother about everything- _anything_ yet?

Or had he died?

Elliot knew nothing, and he'd been in the worst mental state he'd ever been in. Not to mention the ugly confrontation from his sister when he returned home on the Sunday evening, who'd apparently been covering for his backside by telling their parents all sorts of bullshit about where he'd been.

Currently, it was the Friday of the second week Leo hadn't been present in school, and Elliot's number had now officially been blocked by the other.

He'd avoided Oz, as well, coincidentally by also blocking him and escaping to the library whenever he came within five metres of him.

Fortunately, he'd been able to leave his very lonely lesson of Literature without getting caught by Oz. And from the very moment he proceeded to the school gates, he resumed to dwelling on every tiny, insignificant mistake he'd made on _that_ weekend – almost two _weeks_ ago now.

And _now_ , he _knew_ that he'd acted spoilt, and self-entitled. If he'd have just stuck with it a little longer, would Leo have stayed clean? He should've persisted more, and _helped_ him emotionally, as well. He should've pressed for more information, and learnt more about the true hell he'd been living through for God-knows how long.

If he'd just stopped _questioning_ and _acted-_

"Elliot. Come."

… that was a voice he was _not_ used to hearing.

Immediately, Elliot jolted slightly, being brusquely pulled from his tedious, repetitive train of thoughts. Turning on his heel to the source of the voice, as expected, he crossed eyes with Oswald, their deputy headteacher.

Activating his automatic polite-mode, he tried not to convey his surprise, as he retraced his steps out the gate and hesitantly approached the other. "Sir-"

"Come with me," Oswald said nonchalantly, with an indecipherable gaze. "The headteacher has already informed your parents that you will be late home."

"Ok, but…" Elliot narrowed his eyes up at the other. "Why?"

Oswald, staring blankly for a moment, turned his focus down to Elliot, and replied, "Just follow me."

Wordlessly, Elliot obliged.

It was only when they entered the block of Science classrooms that it became evident where they were going. Which was… Break's classroom?

Lingering within his classroom was a heavy, awkward silence, messages only being conveyed through silent but intricate glances. Glances between Break, and Levi – their headteacher – it seemed.

 _Wait._

 _What the hell is Levi doing here?_

"Ah, Elliot," Levi grinned, leaning casually against Break's desk. Break, on the other hand, didn't seem particularly amused, an unreadable but stern expression spread across his face. "How's my favourite student doing?"

"Um… fine?" Elliot lied, slightly put off by the 'favourite student', which seemed to have been plucked out of nowhere since, well… Levi wasn't actually his teacher for anything.

Ultimately, though, the overall heaviness of the room implied they'd been discussing something rather serious, and Elliot's heart dropped at the realisation that this _had_ to have something to do with Leo. And, considering the headteacher, the deputy head, and his most trusted teacher had all gone dead-silent, Elliot could just tell it was something bad.

"Elliot," Levi said again, pulling away from Break's desk and sauntering around to where Elliot stood. "Your teacher has just been talking to me about a rather serious matter, dare I say?"

Internally, Elliot sighed. There was absolutely no point in trying to deny knowing anything. "Yeah, I guess… i-is he in trouble?"

Levi shot him a perplexed expression. "Who, Mr Legnard, or Leo?"

 _Leo. That's it. Something's happened,_ Elliot thought, cringing at the use of Break's formal address as a teacher. Needless to say, he wasn't exactly used to that formality. And given the fact Break also screwed his face up, it was fairly obvious that he didn't like being addressed as such, either.

"Both?"

Derisively, Levi snorted. "Neither. Your teacher followed protocol. I am, however, now aware of what happened. But not because of your teacher here. Someone else told me." There was a short pause, during which he drew in a deep breath, and then continued. "Leo is also not in trouble. He will, however, be getting help."

"Oh…" Elliot murmured. "Why?"

A tense silence filled the room.

Until Break spoke up, and answered. "He's in the hospital. Overdose."

Elliot's heart sunk, the dread in the pit of his stomach exploding into a hoard of butterflies. "Well… what the hell happened?!"

"His mother found him," Oswald answered, still stood at the door. "He's alive. Stable. But unconscious."

"She asked if you'd be told," Break added, picking up one of the pens from his desk and spinning it between two fingers skilfully. Elliot couldn't decode his facial expression. He seemed uncharacteristically… perplexed.

"So it was… OxyContin?"

"No," Break said, averting his single gaze to the floor. "Heroin."

Elliot's eyes immediately doubled in size. His heart began racing at an unprecedented rate. Why the _hell_ had Leo done heroin?

"I don't know why," Break answered before Elliot could even voice his question. "I know no more than the other two here."

"Go see him," Levi said, bringing a hand up and placing it on Elliot's shoulder. And, weirdly, it was quite comforting, really, and somehow, the smile Levi sent his way only amplified that. "You care about him a lot, so you'll regret it if you leave him."

"Yeah…" Elliot nodded briefly. "It's my fault he's-"

"It's not your fault," Oswald interjected. "Things have been difficult for a while. None of this is your fault."

Right before Elliot could question how Oswald knew that, Break cut in again. "Get the train there. If you hurry, you'll get the 15:50 away from the city."

"O-Okay," Elliot stammered. "Thank you. I'll… I'll go now."

Within a few seconds, he'd successfully turned on his heel, proceeded out the door, and closed it behind him. And from the moment the door shut, the conversation inside appeared to continue.

The ugly stirring feeling returned to his stomach, and Elliot was suddenly struck by anxiety that told him Break knew something which he _hadn't_ told him.

* * *

By the time Elliot reached the hospital, it was almost half past four, the place being more or less deserted at this time.

Having grown up around a family of doctors and businessmen well-known in the medical field, Elliot had always assumed he would go into the same kind of thing. Due to his family name, he was almost certainly guaranteed a place at the top university in the country studying Medicine, hence his A Level choices of Chemistry, Maths and Latin despite not being particularly passionate about those subjects.

He'd spent a lot of time at hospitals, as well. Occasionally, his brothers would take him to their family's newest project. Of course, he wasn't familiar with _this_ hospital, but that was because it wasn't private. Needless to say, most of his life had been around privately-owned facilities and institutions.

But in the end, all hospitals were the same. They were all annoyingly sterile and white. And they were _always_ busiest at night.

The first place he went on arrival was the paediatric unit waiting room. One doctor even held a door open for him. Blind praise, he assumed, and promptly screwed his face up at it once he was out of sight. He never liked when people did that.

"Oh, Elliot?"

Visibly, he jumped at the voice, spinning on his heel to spot Leo's mother, Emma, already having stood up to greet him.

Not even the usual forced smile was on her face. No, instead, all he saw was guilt and worry in her eyes. Her face was a picture of fear, to say the least. And sure enough, at that, Elliot's stomach dropped yet _again_.

Did something happen, between him being told and him getting there?

"Ah, hi…" he greeted nervously, taking the seat next to her when she sat down again and getting straight to the point. "So is… Leo, you know…?"

"He's stable," she answered, not particularly convinced by her own answer. The mere thought of her son sent tears to her eyes, and momentarily, Elliot felt bad for even asking. "But I don't know what happened to him. I still don't… _understand_ what the problem was."

Elliot didn't respond at first.

Then, mustering up all the courage he could, he turned to face her, caught her gaze, and apologised. "I'm sorry for leaving him. I should've stayed with him. And he might… not be here now, if I had done."

"R-Really, it's not your fault. But… thank you anyway," she said, forcing a smile. "I just… I can't believe he was doing heroin all this time."

"Did he tell you anything else?"

"No. These past two weeks we've just been… fighting. He needs help, and I'm trying to _help_ him, but he doesn't want it. He won't stop. And all we do is yell at each other." Her eyes, now brimming with tears, flitted to the floor. "There's nothing I can do to help him."

"Sorry I didn't tell you…" Elliot murmured, trying to sound as sincere as possible when ultimately, he'd sided with _Leo_ throughout this entire process. She was trying her best, and he went _against_ her? And _kept it_ from her?

"No, don't worry. Really." The same sad smile tugged at her lips. "I'd rather he had someone he trusts."

"I wouldn't say he _trusts_ me all that much…" Elliot added under his breath. "He hasn't told me anything about his history with the drug."

"Oh…" she muttered. "Still, though. _Heroin._ I'm just… I'm kicking myself for not noticing that he'd been using _heroin_."

Elliot bit down on his lip tentatively. He couldn't hide _everything_ from her. She deserved to know.

"It wasn't…" he stuttered, tripping over his words. "He wasn't taking heroin before the detox. When I found out, it was, um, something called OxyContin. That's… what he's been using most of the time, I think."

At that, she froze, eyes widening rather abruptly. A sense of lingering tension hung over them.

It was at that point Elliot realised that _she_ knew something that _he_ didn't, as well.

"Never mind what I said…" she declared, turning her gaze to the adjacent wall; away from Elliot. "I can… I can get that."

* * *

Two hours had passed since that rather awkward exchange had occurred between Elliot and Leo's mother, and since then, the most that had happened was that they were moved to the room where Leo was.

To no surprise, though, Leo was still asleep. Elliot had been, admittedly, a tad disappointed, although got over that pretty quickly when he remembered that Leo _was_ recovering from a heroin overdose and recently a large dose of Naloxone. What else would he expect?

It was now coming up to 7pm, Emma having been whisked away by their psychiatrist about half an hour ago. Their psychiatrist who, strangely, seemed slightly too pleased to see Elliot there again.

Thankfully, over the past five minutes, Leo had begun to stir. Rigid limbs began to explore the possibility of movement. But he had yet to fully awaken.

He briefly considered getting his mother. In reality, she deserved to be there when he woke up. But before he could, Leo cracked an eye open. Just barely, and he probably wasn't fully awake, but it was enough for him to be instantly blinded by the sterile whiteness, as he flinched visibly.

"You're in the hospital, dumbass," Elliot said harshly, standing up with his arms folded over.

If he'd been administered Naloxone, technically speaking, he _should_ have been thrown straight into the secondary phase of withdrawal. Because, after _further_ in-depth research, he finally uncovered that the ominous opioid-blocker Leo had taken probably _was_ Naloxone, or something with similar properties. However, because the hospital was still under the impression he'd been taking _heroin_ , they'd put him on a low dose of methadone. Whether that would suffice, Elliot had yet to find out.

Leo hadn't appeared to respond to or even acknowledge him, instead blinking erratically in confusion at his surroundings. His limbs simply refused to move for him, but Elliot opted to remain silent until he fully came-to.

It wasn't until several minutes later that he was fully conscious, and only then did Elliot speak again.

"You're in the hospital," he informed him, a tad softer this time, as he took a step forward. "Do you remember anything?"

Leo, still coming to, it seemed, blinked a few more times, and then mustered up all his energy into his lightly trembling arms to haul himself up into a sitting position. He wavered, overcome by a wave of nausea, but stayed where he was nonetheless. Then, once the dizzy spell had washed over him fully, he finally answered Elliot's question. "Yes. I thought I was dead."

"You nearly were," Elliot deadpanned. "Your mother found you. You overdosed."

"So I can tell," Leo muttered, still taking in everything and seemingly suppressing a gag. "Why are you here?"

"I came to apologise, idiot."

"Well?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Elliot tried, taking another step closer to the bed. "Look, I… it was tough on both of us. But I was selfish. I know there's not much I can do, but _please_ ," he sighed, biting back the many tears he'd shed over the past few days. "Accept my apology, at the very least."

Leo was completely silent for a moment. His gaze flitted to the ground, an awkwardness hanging over them. Until he replied, at least. "Apology accepted."

Elliot couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. It was past them. They'd resolved it, to some extent. "Thank you."

"Now that trivial shit is out the way," Leo said, abrupt as ever. "When can I go home?"

"You only want to go home so you can get your next fix," Elliot accused.

"Yeah, obviously," Leo exhaled, slumping back in the bed and laying an arm over his head.

"Why did you take heroin?" Elliot interrogated, refusing to let the silence continue.

Leo paused again. And the silence which proceeded that implied he didn't really want to give the honest answer. But, despite the reluctance, he gave an answer a few moments later. "Oxy was great at satisfying an addiction. But not at getting high," he said. "You'd left, and I was upset; sue me."

Elliot felt his mouth drop open. "And you just… turned to _heroin_ like that?"

"Pretty much."

"Right…" Elliot stammered, unable to find the right words.

Thankfully, however, before he had to, the psychiatrist returned, Leo's mother following. They both smiled briefly at Elliot, and then turned their attention to Leo.

"It's good to see you're finally awake, Leo," he said, tucking the clipboard under his arm and closing the door behind them. "Tell me, how are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Leo replied bluntly, averting his gaze elsewhere. "What did you give me? Because whatever it is, it's not working."

"If you must know, Naloxone, and the highest dose of methadone we can give someone of your age." When Leo didn't reply, the psychiatrist promptly continued. "Is it not helping your cravings?"

"No," Leo grunted, eyes idly panning across the ceiling. And when he spoke again, his tone turned bitter. "Can't you just give me some OxyContin, and then send me home? It's not illegal, so why do you even care?"

"Leo, you need to understand that you have a problem that needs medical help-"

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Leo snapped. His patience, already teetering on the edge, had exceeded its limit. "Of course I know I have a problem! But what the _hell_ am _I_ supposed to do to stop it? It's already happened!"

"We can offer you all the help we can. Yours is not a particularly rare case," he explained, his words barely soothing the other, but at the very least, Leo didn't retort this time. "Your mother and I have discussed it, and currently, you have two options." He paused again, inhaling a deep breath. "Obviously, if you refuse, we can't stop you from returning home. However, please seriously consider the help you're being given.

"Option one is that you go to rehab. You're on a fairly high dose of opiates, so they'd most likely put you on methadone, and ween you off that. Option two is that you stay here; go through a medically managed withdrawal. It'll be up to you whether you're weened off, or if you stop entirely. Whatever decision you make, the nurses will try to make it as comfortable as possible for you. After that, you'll be discharged, and I expect your mother and I will make a decision regarding therapy afterwards."

Leo fell totally silent, seemingly deep in thought. Then, he tilted his head up, staring at Elliot for answers, before responding verbally. "Can you give me time to think?"

"Of course," the psychiatrist nodded, turning towards his mother. "Emma, are you stay-"

"No, she's not," Leo retorted instantly. "Privacy, please."

Wordlessly, the psychiatrist nodded, and led his mother out of the room.

The moment they were alone, Elliot jumped in with his input. "I will pay for you to go to rehab."

"I'm not going to rehab. No way."

"Why not? You need _help_."

"I know I need help, dammit! I'm not an idiot!" Leo snapped, burying his face in his trembling hands. "But I am _not_ going to rehab. I-I'm not _that_ kind of addict, I don't belong in a place like that."

Elliot froze. He turned around, took three steps back, and stared out of the window. "What… happened to you, Leo?"

"I'm not talking about this now," Leo blatantly refused. "Shit, I need a cigarette."

"Stop avoiding the topic. You need to make a decision."

"I want to go home, that's what I want to do. That's my decision, are you happy now?"

"Well… no! Of course not!" Elliot spun around, forced the other to meet his glare, and narrowed his eyes at him. "You're really going to give up? After everything?"

"I won't go back to heroin…" he muttered. "I'll buy more OxyContin, and continue with my life as it was. I'll catch up on the work I missed, continue smoking as I did, and we'll… we'll pretend nothing ever happened."

"No way in hell. You deserve better. And the sooner you quit, the easier it'll be. And… the sooner you'll get the freedom you deserve."

"Wow, which NA meeting did you get that one from?" Leo said sarcastically under his breath. "Why exactly do you care?"

"Because you're my friend, and you're really smart, and y-you could genuinely get somewhere in your life if you just _tried_!" Elliot yelled, retreating back a step when he realised he might have gone _slightly_ over the top. "You know what I feel about you. I don't need to justify myself."

A tense silence befell the room, neither of them daring to utter a word. Leo, staring at the floor, was once again deep in thought. Elliot stared at Leo, trying to decipher what he was thinking but getting nowhere.

Then, after over five minutes without a single sound, Leo drew in a sharp breath, and spoke again. "I'm not going to rehab."

"But you'll stay here?" Elliot asked, meeting his gaze. And for the first time in a while, eye contact with the noirette felt… genuine.

"Mhm," Leo nodded briefly. Then, almost inaudibly, he added: "You're not going to let me leave, _obviously_ , so I might as well _try_ , at least."

"That's the spirit," Elliot deadpanned.

So, they were doing it again.

The detox, the constant pain, the endless throwing up, the never-ending tears: all of it. Again.

Again, and hopefully for the last time.

The heavy silence proceeded to linger right up until the psychiatrist and Leo's mother returned, letting themselves and grabbing their attention simultaneously.

"Have you made your decision?" he asked, sending that same warm smile in his direction as an attempt at comfort.

Leo snorted. "Well it wasn't really my decision."

"He's staying," Elliot declared, as he shot Leo a sidelong glare. Leo caught it, and retorted with a visible, exaggerated eye roll. There it was; the recalcitrance he knew.

"Very well," the psychiatrist said quietly, unhooking the IVs from his arm and leading the two out. "We're going to transfer you to the paediatric unit, and then put you on a strong dose of aspirin for the back pain. And from there, we'll ween you off the methadone slow-"

"I'm not cutting down. Take me off it straight away," Leo demanded. When he stood up from the bed, however, a dizzy spell assaulted him, and his words lost their conviction as he wavered against Elliot.

The psychiatrist and his mother exchanged uneasy glances, but Leo's stern glare didn't change.

"I wouldn't recommend that," he tried, as they continued walking through corridor upon corridor until they reached the paediatric unit. Guiding them into an empty room, almost identical to the previous one except it had a slightly bigger window and a shielded-by-shrubbery garden area behind it, the psychiatrist didn't speak again until he'd shut the door. "Heroin withdrawal can be dangerous if done cold turkey-"

"Do I look like I give a shit?" Leo shot back, hopping onto the bed and crossing his legs over. Stubbornly, he folded his arms over his chest, and averted his focus to the area outside. "In what way is that going to _convince_ me? I went cold turkey from 160mg of OxyContin a day and _that_ didn't kill me, did it?"

The other froze. "OxyContin?"

"Yeah, I mean what I said," Leo threw his arms up, and scoffed. "What, you think I was taking _heroin_ for the last couple of years?"

"We would have assumed as much," his psychiatrist tried to justify, but it was obvious that, at that moment, he knew as little as Elliot, and Leo's mother did. "We will discuss that tomorrow. For now, all we need to know that you're detoxing from _heroin_. And if you don't give permission to be given methadone, then we won't administer it."

"Good," Leo said. "Are you done now? I want to sleep."

"I will give your notes to the nurses, they will administer the aspirin in a minute, and then I won't see you until tomorrow. Is that all?"

"I want to keep Elliot here," Leo muttered.

"What?" Elliot froze, but he wasn't surprised. "I mean… I guess I can. Until Monday, at least."

"Emma? Are you okay with this?"

"Oh, yes. O-Of course…" she stammered. "If he'll be happier with him, then… I shouldn't stand in the way."

"Very well," he sighed, leading Emma out of the room. "The nurses will keep constant supervision over you, and Elliot, you're free to leave at any point, if you wish. Until I see you again, good luck."

"Whatever," Leo grunted, watching intensely as he left, before slumping back in the bed. "I hate him. And I can tell you don't like him either."

"He's too polite," Elliot scoffed. "Tch, probably doesn't want me telling my father about him…"

Leo cocked an eyebrow. "Your parents?"

"Mhm. They're involved in the management of this hospital. It's not private, so they don't spend much time here, but… they still technically own part of it."

"Interesting…" A deviant smirk tugged at the noirette's lips, and Elliot facepalmed when he brought a single cigarette out from his pocket. "If you know so much about this place, take me somewhere I can smoke."

"Where the hell did you even get that?" Elliot interrogated nonchalantly. A stupid question, really. He was well aware at this point that nothing ever got between Leo and cigarettes.

"I bummed it from some guy in the bathroom earlier," Leo shrugged.

"Tch, _fine_ ," Elliot rolled his eyes, and reluctantly obliged. _Reluctantly,_ he told himself. Well, in a way, it was; if it wasn't for his stupid feelings, he would _not_ be doing this. "I… think I remember the access password of this place."

"Elliot is very useful," Leo chuckled to himself, as he followed to other down the corridor, avoiding the gazes of the nurses, until they reached the utility cupboard.

Once they'd gained access to the cupboard, in became obvious where they were going, Elliot using the same password to open the door at the back which led them to the garden. The area was in the centre of the four main buildings, cut off and isolated. It was mainly shielded by trees; hopefully, they couldn't be seen from the reception, which was just across from them. Fortunately, it was dark, and there weren't many windows on the ground floors. Nevertheless, they still weren't meant to be there.

"Hurry up. This is a smoking area for staff only," Elliot hissed.

Wordlessly, Leo nodded, and stuck the cigarette between his teeth with his back to Elliot. With the flame of the lighter held up to the tip, he swiftly lit up, inhaling deeply and exhaling a moment later with a sigh of relief, and a slightly dissatisfied expression. He stared at the cigarette, shrugged, and continued smoking it.

"What?" Elliot interrogated.

"Nothing much," Leo hummed, spinning around to the other and dragging pointedly on the cigarette once again. "I'm used to rolled. That's all."

"Right…"

The silence continued. It was agonisingly awkward, for both of them. Because they _knew_ what would come next. They knew _exactly_ what Elliot would ask. And they _both_ knew that Leo would probably give in and answer this time.

Elliot took a deep breath, and bit the bullet. "Leo."

"Hm?" Leo feigned innocence, flitted his focus to the floor, and took another hit from the cigarette.

"How… how long were you using for?"

At first, Leo didn't respond, instead tapping the ash off the cigarette and pretending to ignore the question.

Unfortunately, that just didn't work this time. He had no excuse not to tell the other anymore.

"I guess you deserve to know, don't you?" Leo smiled weakly.

Elliot couldn't decipher whether the smile was genuine or caustic, but responded honestly anyway. "Yeah, I think… I do. After everything."

"Well then," Leo snickered, perching on the side of the bench. "Looks like it's story time for you, isn't it? For me, it's more like, ' _let's try not to have a mental breakdown_ ', but I'll tell you anyway.

"I've mentioned the car crash before. And you were right, in a way. That _was_ where things started going wrong." He paused, dragging on the cigarette for a considerable amount of time before continuing. "I was 12 when that happened. As I said, my father was killed. My mother came out with a broken leg, and a concussion.

"I was in the car on the same side as my father; the same side the car hit us. I don't remember all of the details, but I think I had whiplash, three cracked ribs, and a fractured spine in several places. It's a surprise I'm not paralysed. I was immobilised in hospital for a long time, most of which I spent either unconscious or drugged up on morphine.

"Once I returned home, and was just about able to walk, they prescribed me OxyContin. 10mg pills, two in a day. A low dose, but enough to manage the pain," he explained, and then paused again. Elliot daren't say a word, listening devotedly and trying to let everything sink in. "My mother was diagnosed as bipolar at the time, due to my father's death. And our relationship went to shit, really. I wasn't keeping up with the physio, she'd yell at me for no reason, we didn't have any money, etcetera.

"I'd been given 18 months to recover, but I hadn't kept up with any of the physio, so the injuries in my spine never healed. Not really. And obviously, when the recovery period ends, the prescription ends." Leo stopped speaking once again, and Elliot could tell that talking about this was _not_ easy. These were not good memories; these were memories he'd tried to suppress. "They tried to taper me off them, slowly decreasing the dose. And I lasted two days at a lower dose before I went out onto the streets and found the first dealer who would agree to sell opiates to a 14-year-old.

"My mother went back to work, and we were set up to a program which gave my mother £200 a week for me. And slowly, I began to use that money to buy the pills for myself. I convinced my mother to give it to me, or stole it. I was a clever 14-year-old, and a high-functioning drug addict. That was who I'd become.

"It was strange, really. I knew what I was taking, but I shouldn't have gotten addicted. A dependency, sure. I was warned about that from day one." Once again, Leo stopped speaking momentarily, dragging on the cigarette and carefully selecting his next words. "There was an experiment conducted, a long time ago now, called the _'rat park'_ experiment, I think. Have you heard of it?"

"Um, no…" Elliot shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Some rats were put into two cages, either one with loads of other rats, and loads of fun stuff to play on, and the others were put alone; isolated, and bored. And they were given two bottles: one with water, and one with water laced with morphine. Each time, when they were alone, the rats went straight for the morphine. But when they were in _'rat park'_ , there was no pattern. They didn't need to unknowingly seek comfort in the morphine."

"Hang on," Elliot interjected. "If you know so much, how _did_ you end up addicted?"

"Hm, that's a good question, isn't it?" Leo chuckled, but Elliot knew any amusement he conveyed was forced. "I'd done my research. I knew what was happening to me. And yet, I sat and watched myself slowly becoming the epitome of the person I said I'd never be."

"Oh…"

"But anyway, eventually, I moved myself up to 15mg. The 10mg just wasn't enough. The pain was still persistent, and my tolerance grew. So that emotional alleviation I was seeking each time just… didn't happen. And after that, I bumped myself up to taking three pills in a day. It was like a downward spiral, really. One I couldn't get out of.

"I was still at school full time, as well. And my mother was trying to move on with her life, too. So it wasn't much of a surprise that she didn't notice when I moved myself up to 20mg and started injecting it occasionally, just to get that extra little bit of a high. And I was embarrassed. But no one knew and I wanted it to remain that way.

"Shortly after I turned 15, I was already bored of living that life. I tried to stop, cold turkey. I passed it off as food poisoning, but only made it two days. The withdrawal was too intense.

"After I relapsed, my tolerance just shot up. And fairly soon after that, I was injecting all three 20mg pills a day." He sighed, exhaled the smoke, and glanced down at the cigarette. Disappointed? "I think it was about four months after that when I picked up the cigarettes. That was just habit, which escalated from two to five to eight to ten a day. My mother knew something was wrong with me, but her mental health was deteriorating as well. I know that was my fault. She was worried, and frankly depressed that she'd lost her control over me.

"When I turned 16, I finally started to get used to my life as it was. I accepted defeat, and decided I wouldn't stop until it killed me. I suited my life to work with it. I stole, I lied; I did whatever any addict would do. My relationship with my mother turned toxic, and we'd yell and fight non-stop, it seemed.

"The exams I took when I was 16 were more than enough to get me into college. I got the highest grades of anyone in my school, even though I hadn't shown up to half the year. But the area we were living in was pretty shit, and I went to a new college against my will, studying A Levels I hadn't even chosen," he explained, dropping the cigarette onto the ground and grinding it out with the heel of his shoe. Unsure what to do with his hands, he simply folded them over his chest, turning his back to Elliot. "I fought with other students seven times and got caught smoking in the toilets innumerable times, before they finally expelled me.

"At that point, my mother's counsellor suggested we move. So, we did, and ended up in the shithole we're in now. I wasn't going to school, and ended up just teaching myself the curriculum, assuming that one day I'd end up in school again.

"Obviously, moving meant finally a new drug dealer. The 20mg wasn't enough, either. I'd end up in acute withdrawal for days at a time, before eventually, I had to move myself up 40mg. Yes, I risked overdosing." He snorted. "As if I'd cared at that point. My life meant shit all to me.

"One thing led to another, and the deal I struck with my dealer had me everything I needed at £210 a week. Obviously, that just meant more stealing from my mother. More fighting, more arguing. Not to mention the fact I was smoking something like 15 a day, purely because I was bored, and I had to pay for the cigarettes somehow.

"You've seen how things go, so I'm sure you can guess what happened next.

"My tolerance increased. I was bored, and the addiction wasn't going to feed itself. So I ended up using four times a day: once when I wake up, once at around lunch, once after dinner, and then once again right before I go to sleep. And when you do that for 4 or 5 months, it takes its toll. 160mg of OxyContin a day is a lot, and it stressed me out. It was only a recently that my mother found out about the smoking, actually. Probably only two months or so before I joined your school.

"We had to go to routine appointments at the hospital, as well. Every fortnight, supposedly. She wanted me to have therapy, but I wasn't having any of it. They tried to shove me that Prozac shit, but I wouldn't take it." He paused, his words evidently suppressing aggression. "If they'd never prescribed me OxyContin in the first place, I wouldn't be where I am now.

"Anyway, that's… all there is to it, really," Leo exhaled in relief. It felt strange to have gotten that off his chest, but he didn't feel much better. More… exposed, if anything. These were secrets he'd tried to keep, and he'd just confessed everything _at once_? "I took the entrance exams to your school, and then was… enrolled, basically. And then I met you."

Elliot was speechless.

Everything he'd just been told was still sinking in. Everything, from the car crash to the prescription to the recovery to the _almost four-year addiction_ to opiates.

His chest ached. He had nothing to say.

The silence didn't help that.

Until Leo broke it, at least. "Were you serious when you said you liked me?"

Elliot froze. Unsure whether or not to respond verbally, he instead remained silent. The shame and self-hate which came with facing up to the truth came flooding back, and nearly unnoticeably, with his head turned downwards, he nodded.

"Well then," Leo grinned, staring at the other until he initiated eye contact. "Why don't we make this official, then?"

Once again, Elliot was stunned into speechlessness.

And of course, the overly-complex, self-hate-stirring thoughts were back. Memories from when he first came to terms with his feelings towards the other haunted his conscience. He felt himself begin to tremble at the mere _thought_ of… well, everything.

Okay, so his feelings weren't unrequited. Great. But that didn't take away from the fact he felt _disgusting_ to feel that way. How could he say _yes_? His family would hate him, God forbid they ever found out. There would be no end to it. He'd barely even come out to two people. How on earth was he supposed to say _yes_?

His knees grew weak, his stomach twisting and turning repeatedly. There was no way he could say yes.

But at the same time, he couldn't suppress that little voice at the back of his mind telling him that _this was what he'd wanted._ This was what he'd been _waiting for._ This is what endless nights of incessant thoughts of his true sexuality would amount to.

He'd get to be with the person he loved.

"You can't doubt how hard this will be for me. I could use a motivation, you know. Someone who I'd be… well, doing this _for_ ," Leo said, his tone indecipherable. Albeit Elliot was most likely stuck in too deep of a trance to truly pay attention to what the other was implying. The noirette stood, and took three steps towards Elliot, narrowing the gap between them. "And you know, Elliot. I think I've begun to like you, as well. Because, well, you're not all that bad, really."

Internally, Elliot was still freaking out.

But none of that mattered anymore. Not when Leo leant up, closed his eyes, and captured Elliot's lips in a delicate and undeniably meaningful kiss. A kiss that spoke a million and one apologies. A confession, you might even say.

The shame and hatred dissipated after that, as his eyes lulled shut, and he melted into the kiss. The lingering taste of tobacco cross-contaminated his taste-buds when Leo slipped a tongue into his mouth, after he'd unknowingly brought a hand up to the back of the noirette's head, pulling them closer.

 _This_ was what his feelings had amounted to: a moment of passion, and raw truth.

A few moments later, Leo pulled away, grinning up at a blatantly flustered Elliot. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

Furiously, _eagerly_ , Elliot nodded.

It didn't matter what his parents' and siblings' reaction was (if he ever told them, which he wasn't planning on doing). Because that moment they just shared was too strong to make any of that relevant.

He felt a huge alleviation, as well. Break was right; there _was_ one person who would give him the closure he needed. And _this_ was what he'd needed.

It was okay. He'd keep it a secret. It would be something they shared between them.

"Come on, let's go back inside," Leo promptly, snapping Elliot from his daze as he pushed open the door again. He seemed unfazed by everything, whilst Elliot was still internally screaming. "Haha. The nurses are probably so confused."

Wordlessly, he rolled his eyes, but followed Leo inside nonetheless.

And then, the moment they passed the threshold into the corridor again, Elliot froze, dead in his tracks.

His knees turned to jelly. His palms began to sweat profusely. His anxiety and heartrate increased exponentially, to the point where he thought his heart would beat out of his chest, he'd throw up, or both.

No.

There was no _way_ this was happening.

He was fucked, to say so bluntly. He was well and truly, royally fucked. He would not get out of this easily – if at _all._

Because the two people who stood in front of him were probably the most influential people in his entire life. And, if the stern, disgusted, _mortified_ expressions stuck on their faces were anything to go by, the two most influential people in his entire life had just witnessed him _making out with Leo._

They'd seen it. Of course they had.

The two most influential people in his entire life being his father, and Vanessa, that was. _They_ had seen _it_.

He swallowed thickly. No one spoke at first. And it seemed as though Leo had yet to figure out what was going on.

Then, after a solid minute of nothing but interrogative staring, his father spoke. Not directly to Elliot, at that, but to one of the nurses; the first one he saw. "Excuse me, _you_. Take this _boy_ back to his room at once."

"Y-Yes sir," they stuttered, fully aware of who had given the orders, and slightly intimidated by them. Immediately, they obeyed, dragging Leo away.

That left Elliot alone with his father and sister, a humiliated expression spread across his guilt-stricken features.

Elliot did not want to be left alone with those two right now.

"I'm waiting," Vanessa spat after another brief silence, folding her arms over her chest and sharpening her glare – if that were even possible at this point.

"F-For what?" Elliot stammered. _Yes, just play innocent. That's… obviously going to work, right…?_

 _No, of course it won't, idiot._

 _This is bad. Very bad._

"You know _exactly_ what I mean," she said, words cold and bitter. "Why were you _kissing_ that repulsive _brat_?"

Elliot swallowed thickly, and then exhaled a heavy sigh, hiding his trembling hands in his pocket and closing his eyes for a few seconds in a futile attempt to somewhat regain his composure. Once his eyes were open, and he was slightly disappointed that he hadn't been dreaming, he inhaled a deep breath, but refused to meet their glares. Embarrassment consumed him, a dark red blush on his cheeks amplifying that. "Can we please take this somewhere more private?"

"I own these corridors, boy," his father declared. "We will discuss where I _say_ we discuss."

"O-Okay…"

"Well?" Vanessa demanded again. "An explanation?"

There was no getting around it. They'd seen it with their own eyes. Trying to deny it would do more harm than good, as they'd obviously have access to the CCTV footage, and so denying it would just get him shunned for lying.

He was going to be shunned for being gay, anyway. There was no point being dishonest about it. The truth was the truth – the horrible, undeniable truth.

Tears began pricking at his eyes again. But rather than letting them fall, and breaking down, like every other time he'd come out, he bit them back this time, and faced his father and sister dead in the eyes.

And he spoke with absolute certainty in his tone, not letting any emotional falter become evident through his words.

"Alright, _yes_! _Yes,_ I kissed him. _Yes_ , I _like_ him. _Yes,_ h-he's my boyfriend! And, finally, _yes_ , I'm gay! A-And that's who I am and there's absolutely nothing you can say or do that's going to change that!"

His father and sister were utterly speechless.

 _Shit._

Until Vanessa sighed, shook her head, and replied. "I really thought better of you, Elliot."

"I will give you something that will change _that_ ," his father declared. It was difficult to tell _how_ annoyed he was, but from the way he was setting up his next words, it seemed, things were _not_ looking too great for Elliot. "You are not to return to our home until you have realised how childish you are acting."

That hit hard, and his heart sunk. To hear what he'd just heard was a punch in the stomach.

His suspicions and dreads really had been true. He really _was_ disgusting.

A tightness in his chest began to well up. At the very least, he had to make it away from them, and back to Leo, where he could be somewhere _alone_ , with no one else but the one person he trusted.

Without looking back on his sister and father, he spun of his heel, dropped his head to the floor, and stormed off towards the room he remembered Leo was in. He had no idea if they'd left or not, but the silence surrounding him at least confirmed him that they hadn't followed.

Then, when he arrived, and laid eyes on Leo, somehow, that disgust he held for himself felt just a little better. Enough for him to snap back into reality, shut the door, and wipe his tears away.

"I'm sorry," Leo said, already hooked up to the IV and curled up in the bed. "I heard everything."

"It's… it's okay," he lied. "No, I lied. I-It's not, and it's… I-I've been kicked out of my home, _fuck_." Great. He was panicking again. "They're… leaving me here tonight, I think."

"If it'll work out with me, it'll work out with you."

It was a simple message, but it settled the raging anxiety inside him – enough for him to stop crying; enough to make this just bearable.

The next thing he noted was that Leo had since stood up, approached him steadily, and placed his lips back onto his. And then, the heaviness in his chest was soon replaced with warmth.

Leo's words rang through Elliot's head, as he closed his eyes once again and softly placed a hand on other's waist.

 _If it'll work out with me, it'll work out with you._

By no means was _any_ of this okay, but something about it seemed good enough.

Good enough – just for the two of them.


	13. Chapter 13

_**(A/Ns: asfakdhfghakgjh 3 weeks eh? ok so firstly, for those who aren't a british lil fucker like me, fag = cigarette. also, how'd you like my first attempt at a parallel narrative? xD Vincent marking Oz's essays is 100% my lit teacher when she marked my essays. haha, sorry miss. i was a terrible student anYWAY. i wont be posting chapter 14 until the beginning of January bc ch14 is a really depressing one and i just don't think it's right to post it at Christmas.**_

 _ **please drop a review afterwards if you can!**_

 _ **content warnings: drug withdrawal, vomiting, diarrhea, it's not pretty, smoking, cigarette withdrawal, swearing, violence, mentions of death, references to eating disorders, homophobia, drug addiction.**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

When Elliot woke up the next morning, it was precisely 9am.

But not for a single second did he stop to question where he was. He was a little groggy, sure, and his back was in agony after having slept upright in a chair the entire night, but in terms of questioning where he was or why he was there, the thought didn't even cross his mind.

It was attempt number two. And he was determined they'd succeed this time.

Once his vision was no longer hazy from just waking up, he stretched, and glanced over to Leo.

Leo was still asleep, buried in a mountain of blankets. A mountain of blankets which appeared to be trembling already – discreetly, but noticeably.

The overdose had occurred at approximately 1pm the previous day, he guessed, and so the methadone was likely beginning to wear off now. How irritable Leo would be when he woke up, he was unsure. And Elliot was also unsure of whether he actually wanted to find out.

For now, however, he opted to stand up, and find the bathroom in this place. Waiting for Leo to wake up may have been a good idea, but ultimately, the fullness of his bladder took priority.

Sure enough, by the time he returned, Leo was awake.

He didn't say anything when Elliot walked straight back into the room, either. He didn't even flinch. Rather, he seemed distracted by something, his focus devoted entirely to one single thought, which left his awareness of his external environment restricted to a single gaze, locked on the floor, so it appeared.

"Good morning," Elliot said, partially sarcastically, but also in a genuine attempt to save the other from his trance.

Leo didn't move a single muscle, as he grunted. "What?"

"Nothing from me…" Elliot murmured idly, standing at the window; his back hurt too much for him to sit back down in that godforsaken chair. "Tch, what are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Leo replied, his tone hostile. Eyebrows furrowing, his gaze didn't avert from the floor, but instead sharpened. " _Shit_. I don't have any cigarettes."

 _Of course_ , Elliot deadpanned mentally, biting back the urge to speak his inner voice. "Well… ok?"

With an irritated huff, Leo collapsed back in the bed, inhaling deeply through pursed lips, before his gaze turned towards Elliot – his gaze, which was now noticeably sheepish. "If I send you back to my house, and asked you to bring the cigarettes, would you say yes?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Well first of all, I imagine I need a key to get into your house," Elliot said bluntly. "Secondly, I don't know where your cigarettes are, or what to pick up. And thirdly, you can't smoke anywhere in this hospital anyway, and I wouldn't be surprised if my father changed all the passwords and formally removed me as his child on this hospitals' files. So, _no_ , I would not."

"They're on my desk…" Leo sulked. "Everything is in my room. Apart from to buy drugs and shower like, once, I didn't leave my room for two weeks. And I just smoked in there."

Elliot blinked at him, trying not to seem judgemental but ultimately coming off as just that. "You didn't leave at _all_? Not even to eat or use the bathroom?"

The fleeting glance which Leo responded with told Elliot he should not be questioning that. "You heard me."

"… right…" he said, slightly at loss for words. "Well… I don't really know what else to suggest…"

"Think of something. I will go crazy in this shithole if I can't smoke one way or another," Leo grumbled under his breath, exaggeratingly rolling his eyes when the door opened. "Great, they're back."

Internally, Elliot sighed, bracing himself for whatever verbal abuse Leo would deliver to the nurses this time.

"Good morning Leo," one of them greeted, smiling at him.

"Why does everyone keep saying that to me?" Leo said in disgust, turning over, leaving his back to the two nurses. "There is absolutely nothing _good_ about this morning."

The two nurses exchanged concerned glances. "Are there any symptoms yet?"

"Not really," Leo answered reluctantly. "Just congestion. And my head hurts like shit."

"Oh… well, is there another issue?"

For some reason, Leo didn't respond to that. Rather, sulkily, he eyed Elliot, conveying a very brief message. A message which the other got, somehow.

Rolling his eyes, Elliot replied for him. He couldn't believe he was having to do this. "He needs to smoke. Is there any possible way you can help?"

"Um, well…" Another uneasy glance. "We encourage all patients to quit whilst they're here, and do give out e-cigarettes, but um... this is the paediatric unit, and since you're under 18, we can't give you anything, unfortunately."

"Well I'm _not_ going to quit, am I?" Leo grunted. "Fine. Now get out."

Hastily, the two nurses shuffled out the room. Elliot felt genuinely bad for them; they had a job to do, and that was to _help_ Leo. And Leo seemed to be going out of his way to ensure they did everything _but_ help him.

"Shit," Leo hissed once again, flipping onto his back and instantly wincing. "I'm going to die in this place."

"I hardly think you'll die because you can't have a fag," Elliot deadpanned, earning him a bitter glare. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Hm… buy me cigarettes."

"Not happening."

" _Fine_ , just…" He groaned. "Get _something_ to stop me from dying. I don't care what."

Against his will, Elliot obliged, grabbing his belongings and storming out the door without another word.

And on the way out, he really had to stop and question if he was even ready to do this all again.

* * *

Unsure of where else to go, Elliot simply decided to go to their college.

Because of the prestige of the academy, all teachers were required to work six days a week, from around 10 or 11am to 5pm. And given everything he'd learnt recently, the only person Elliot could think of who give him reliable advice was their Chemistry teacher, Break. Plus, he might as well give him an update whilst he was there.

And, hopefully, he'd find out _how_ Break had even heard about the overdose yesterday.

Sure enough, by the time he'd reached the school, Break was already there, seated on the chair of his desk with his legs kicked up beside the computer, and marking a considerably large pile of test papers. Along with him was Reim, Elliot's tutor, who taught History.

It was well-known among the students that Break and Reim were good friends, so it didn't surprise him all that much that they spent their Saturdays together.

Still, though, when Elliot had serious, _confidential_ matters to attend, Reim's presence was a little inconvenient.

Tentatively, he approached his classroom, but before he could even knock on the open door, Break spotted him. "Ah, Elliot~! What brings you here today, hm~?"

"I had some things to ask about, um, regarding yesterday…" Elliot started diffidently, making his way into the room. When Reim spotted him, he smiled, and Elliot felt mean trying to get rid of him. "Uh, good morning, sir…"

Wordlessly, Reim nodded. An awkward silence then proceeded to hang over them for at least thirty seconds, before he finally got the hint. "Oh! T-This is confidential?"

"My, my, maybe you aren't so clueless~" Break snickered teasingly, placing the pen down. "But, ah, I'm afraid it is. Why don't you run down to the staff room and grab a refill of tea for me, hm?"

Irritated, the brunette rolled his eyes, but nevertheless still stood up, grabbed the empty cup from the fellow teacher's hand, and stormed off out the classroom.

Once they were alone, just to be sure, Elliot spun on his heel, and closed to the door. "So, he's uh… he's alive."

"A good start indeed~" Break chuckled. But the sincerity from yesterday, and the time before that, quickly returned. "How is he doing?"

"A little shaken, but he's… he's doing okay, so far…" Elliot said, unsure in his own words. "But he um… he sent me away to find something to help him with the… the nicotine withdrawal. Do you have any idea what I can get?"

"Hm…" Break hummed in thought, and then leant forward, and opened his drawer. Inside the drawer was a mass of contents, with no organisation to any of it. Shuffling everything around for a few moments, he pulled out a black cylindrical object, along with a few extra pieces, and a screwdriver. "If I can fix this, he can have it."

Elliot stared blankly at him. "What even is it?"

"I shouldn't _reaaaally_ be giving it to you, but it's an e-cigarette. I'd imagine I have a vape juice with nicotine somewhere amongst that mess," Break chuckled, his gaze flitting between Elliot and the drawer. "It's a little guilty pleasure, I must confess, but I do still vape once or twice a week. Ah, but you mustn't tell your brother that~"

"Oh… ok…" Elliot said unsurely. "Well… thanks, I guess?"

Break simply nodded, fiddling with the pieces. Silence intercepted their conversation, as he continued attempting to fix it, before asking rather ambiguously, "Is there anything else you wished to tell me?"

"Well… I found out about his history with the… the medication…" Elliot started hesitantly. "He was in a car crash when he was 12, I think, and then he was… prescribed them for back injuries. And, yeah, it just… went from there. He kept… moving the dose up."

"Interesting…" Break hummed, his attention seemingly stolen by the task at hand. Right when Elliot thought that, however, he turned around to him, initiating eye contact. "Did he tell you anything else?"

"Not really…" Elliot answered. Then, the one question he had resting on his tongue since yesterday came straight back to his consciousness, and he _had_ to ask it. "H-How did you know about the… the overdose yesterday? Who… told you, fully?"

"Ah, I assumed you'd ask that," Break said. Satisfied with himself, he quickly fitting a new receptacle of vape juice in the e-cigarette, before handing it to Elliot, and continuing. "Levi."

"… what?"

Break, leaning his elbows on his desk, glanced up at Elliot. "He was there, remember? I know I shouldn't mention this, but when it happened, I had a long discussion with him about your deputy head." He paused, a very suspicious smile donning his lips. "Do you recognise his surname?"

For a few seconds, Elliot stared blankly into space, searching through his memories. He'd never _asked_ Leo, but _surely_ he'd seen his work folders or something at some point.

Yes. Yes he had. "His surname is… Baskerville, right?"

Only then did it click.

"That's… the deputy's surname as well?" The look on Elliot's face returned to clueless. "Um… are they…?"

"Not blood related, no," Break answered. "Levi explained how Oswald was Leo's father's brother, so his uncle. He doesn't see him much, particularly after Leo's father died. They don't get along at all. Leo's mother often looks to him for help, but alas, there's little Oswald will do. He's so disapproving of his attitude towards his mother than he barely acknowledges Leo as his nephew. A sad case, really. But when Leo's mother told Oswald and Oswald told Levi, Levi decided to come to me and ask about you and Leo's relationship."

"Wait… you knew about his father's death?!"

"Yes, but rest assured, I did not know about the prescription," Break said, attempting to calm the other down. "His uncle was the one who suspected he was doing drugs. It's a surprise he even let him into the school knowing what he's like."

"Oh…" Elliot murmured. "I can't believe I didn't notice they had… the same surname."

"Mhm, yes. I'll admit I did think it was strange~" Break chimed. "Is that all?"

"Um, yeah…" Elliot turned towards the door, opened it, and pocketed the e-cigarette. "Thanks for the vape, and… everything, I guess. I'll… give you an update on Monday."

"Take care~" Break waved him off.

Those were the words of a true blessing, Elliot noted. A blessing which, unfortunately, was easier said that done, when the last time Elliot tried to take care of himself ended in a relapse and their entire relationship almost being ruined forever.

Hastily, he stormed back down the English corridor, figuring it was an easier way of getting out of the school than through the main entrance again.

When the echo of two very familiar voices reverberated through the corridor, however, from only a few classrooms up, Elliot immediately halted in his tracks. And his blood ran cold.

"Ah, well that essay was terrible. Who's next… ah! Oz's. Hm… he's a bit of hit-and-miss, really."

"Vince, I'm… really not sure you should saying those sorts of things about your students…"

Those voices being the ones which belonged to Gilbert and Vincent, his older adoptive brothers, and his Maths and Literature teachers respectively.

Did they know about anything which was going on? Had their father told them? Or did they have absolutely no clue about any of it?

Instead of risking walking past the classroom and being seen, Elliot simply stayed where he was, listening in on their conversation despite knowing he had no right to be hearing any of it.

"Ah… this doesn't make much sense. His paragraph structuring is very impressive, but his analysis is lacklustre. His views on things are too idealistic. See here, he's attempted to compare the symbolism of flowers to the character's speech connotations, however it is overly romanticised. A fair argument, but terribly written."

"Vince, I'm sure he tried his best-"

"Their first exams are in a few months. Gil, please understand that I wish for all my students to do the best they possibly can. Ah, not all, at least, but most."

"… right."

"But here, you see, he's done it again. He's attempted to make a link between context and language choice but with no real reference to the author's intentions."

Elliot frowned; Vincent had always been a harsh marker, but he wouldn't _dream_ of hearing what he had to say about his work.

Snapping himself out of his trance, he forced his legs to carry himself down the rest of the corridor. He really shouldn't have been listening to their conversation. His head kept down, he hastily headed towards the door, praying he wouldn't be-

"Elliot? What are you…?"

 _Shit_.

Of course. _Of course_ Gilbert had see him. The door was wide open. How could he have _not_ seen him?

"Huh?" Elliot feigned cluelessness, stepping a little closer to the classroom and leaning on the door frame.

"Elliot, I think Gil is asking why you're at school on a Saturday," Vincent said, shooting Elliot a questioning expression. Questioning, and unreadable.

"In a way, yeah…" Gilbert muttered, a little put off by his brother's interjection, it seemed. "And… you're in your uniform?"

"Um, y-yeah…" Elliot stammered. No. There was no _way_ he could tell Gilbert and Vincent about last night. They didn't live with their family anymore. They deserved no part of this drama.

Besides, even _thinking_ about the events of yesterday to form a coherent recall made his chest hurt.

A lie. Yes. He'd just have to make something up.

"Elliot? Is… everything okay?" Gilbert asked, hesitantly placing the pen down. "You just seem… really distant."

"I-I'm fine, really," he stammered, his voice cracking. His chest tightened. He had to leave, or otherwise he would break down, right then and there. He hated feeling so wretched, but the fact was he _did_. That _was_ how he felt and there was clearly no way of getting around that, no matter how pathetic he was. "I, uh, just… got into an argument with my- our father last night, and I… was thrown out?"

"Holy crap, Elliot, what happened?" Gilbert seemed unable to say anything else, his mouth dropping open.

"I-It doesn't matter!" Elliot yelled, losing his temper. Clenching his fits, he turned on his heel, and stormed down the corridor.

Gilbert attempted to call after him, but failed. Then, clueless, he turned to Vincent for an explanation. "W-What do you think happened?"

Vincent's eyebrows furrowed, a frown forming across his face. The sinister, unsettling smile which usually donned his lips had totally disappeared, the glare narrowing at the floor being even more disconcerting.

"I don't know. But that _scum_ he calls a father must be at fault."

Since they'd been taken into the Nightray family, Vincent had always hated their father. He hated his guts. He hated every part of him and his beliefs, including how he'd treated Gilbert and him, and none of that had ever changed.

"For Elliot's sake," Vincent continued, his tone teetering on the edge of aggressive. "We should confront him."

"Vince, I really don't think that will help."

"Of course it will," the blonde countered, dropping the pen and standing up, kicking the chair aside and striding out of the room.

Gilbert facepalmed, before reluctantly, he stood up, logged off the computer, and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. Ultimately, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

If Vincent wanted this confrontation, then nothing – absolutely _nothing_ – was going to get in his way.

* * *

By the time Elliot returned to the hospital, it was almost half past 11.

He was still panicking over the encounter with his brothers. His hands trembled and this heart thumped within his chest every time the thought made its way back into his mind. What if Gilbert and Vincent _had_ been told something? What if they were just tasked with finding out where he was?

No. Vincent vocally hated their father. He wouldn't be working _with_ him.

But what if they asked Break? Would Break tell them what happened with Leo? Or had they already been told?

Elliot sighed, and forced his thoughts to a halt. He was already getting another headache, and he still had another two days of withdrawals to go through with Leo after this.

Great.

But after this, where would he even go? He didn't exactly have a home which he was welcome in.

… perhaps he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Leo's mood hadn't improved much over the last hour, evidently. When Elliot returned, he found him propped up in the bed, hooked up to the IV, with a bowl of cereal. He wasn't eating it, though. Instead, he was idly stirring it with the spoon.

"What took you so long?" he grunted, glancing up at Elliot, blatantly unimpressed and slightly pissed off.

"I went to the school…" Elliot answered tentatively, wandering over and standing at the side of his bed. "I had to get the train. Is that a problem?"

"Yes," Leo said bluntly, screwing his face up in utter disgust at a mere bowl of cereal. The hand which held the spoon shook, but he seemed unwillingly to acknowledge that. "The nurses keep hooking me up to random shit."

"Well… did they tell you _what_?"

"Aspirin, and something else," he answered, dumping the cereal on the small table beside the bed. "This is disgusting. I can't eat right now without making myself sick afterwards."

For a brief moment, Elliot had to stop and consider whether the other had developed a minor eating disorder in the process of his addiction as well. For one, he refused to eat if he wasn't able to throw it up at some point, but hopefully that was just a physical thing. He couldn't be dealing with that as well.

"What did you get?"

"The best I could," Elliot said, handing Leo the vape pen and avoiding his perplexed and somewhat irritated gaze. "I got it from Break. At least you can use it here. Just… be quick. You shouldn't have it."

"Hardly the best you could do…" Leo muttered under his breath as he took the e-cigarette nonetheless, inspecting it with great attention to detail. "But thanks anyway."

"Cheers for the gratitude," Elliot deadpanned. "Just… open a window."

"Alright, alright." Leo threw his arms up, fiddling with the IV for a few moments, before unhooking himself from it, and staggering over to the window. His movements were strained, and Elliot didn't miss how he winced whenever his back arched.

Without a second of hesitation, he cracked the window open, just slightly, before attempting to use the vape. Elliot couldn't see his face, but the smoky-coloured vapour was enough to mesmerise him, capturing his attention as it drifted out of the window.

The way he shook, however, continued to send a shudder through him, stimulating a stirring sensation of dread in the pit of his stomach. He was struggling; Elliot could just tell. Why wasn't he saying so?

Why did he ask for help when it was right in front of him?

Regardless, in a few hours, they would be starting everything all over again, and yet, really, neither of them was ready in the slightest.

* * *

"Ah, Gil. It's been a while since we came here, hasn't it?"

Gilbert swallowed thickly, nodding in agreement with his brother as they pulled up to the Nightray estate. Of course, the automatic gate recognised his number plate, granting them entry to the house, but it seemed so much bigger than when they last came.

Beside him, Vincent sat in more or less total silence, speaking the odd, out of context few words occasionally, but saying nothing else. His expression totally indecipherable, and Gilbert couldn't even begin to decode his intentions.

"Please watch what you say, Vince," Gilbert warned, as he parked the car in front of the porch; they wouldn't be there long. Vincent's arguments were always volatile, sure, but concise as well. This would be a nasty encounter – Vincent would, for some reason, defend Elliot almost as much as he'd defend Gilbert – but it would thankfully be over quite quickly. He hoped, at least.

"Do not worry about me, Gil. I know what I have to say," Vincent smiled at him. However, _that_ particular smile was forced. He knew that. "Depending on the severity of what he did, that is."

Inhaling a deep breath, Gilbert followed Vincent out of the car and up towards the porch. It was better to get this over and done with, he thought. _Hoped_.

The servants recognised them instantly, to no surprise. Vincent, however, had always hated them, giving them blunt looks of contempt before summoning Bernard. He was always home on Saturdays, unless they were at a fundraiser.

Within five minutes, he arrived, locking a suspicious gaze on Gilbert and Vincent. Gilbert stared at him nonchalantly, but his façade was admittedly breaking; they'd never considered him very close as a father, but he did intimidate them. Well, not Vincent. Vincent was, once again, smiling at him, but forcefully. Threateningly.

Bernard definitely saw through it, but in response, nonetheless, he still proceeded to smile at the two. "Gilbert, Vincent. It has been a while since you last showed you face here."

"It has, hasn't it, father?" Vincent said, his words teetering on passive aggressive.

"I would invite you for a drink, however I do believe you ought to be at work right now."

"That is okay. This was not a social event," Vincent said, the disturbing smile spread across his lips still. " _I_ believe we ought to take this to somewhere more private."

Eyes narrowed suspiciously at the blonde, Bernard reluctantly obliged, dismissing the offers of help from the servants and leading the two into his office. Books covered the walls, untouched, but practically flaunting his knowledge and status.

"What brings you here?" he said, quietly, as he closed the door behind him and proceeded to sit at his desk.

"We came to ask about your _son_ ," Vincent spat, but despite the biting edge of clear and blatant disgust and disdain in his words, he still wore a smile. "Elliot. Why did you throw him out?"

With a heavy, lethargic sigh, Bernard gestured to the two seats in front of him. "I expected you to ask about this sooner or later. Sit."

Gilbert edged forward to obey, but Vincent halted him, grabbing his arm and squeezing. Then, with his smile directed at Bernard, the disapproving bitterness radiating from his presence, he spoke. "I think we'll stand."

"Very well," Bernard sighed. With his hands cupped together on the table, he avoided Vincent's interrogative glare, as he aimed his focus at the floor, and spoke with unreadable intonation. "It is only temporary, until he come to terms with himself."

"Well…" Gilbert spoke this time, cautious in his words. "What happened?"

"Yesterday, Vanessa and I caught him having stayed after school _without_ permission, at the hospital. The _public_ hospital. He was with a student – one of _your_ students – in a prohibited area, having _homosexual relations_. And according to _him_ , he is _'gay'_. Hence, he has been told not to set foot in this house until he realises how _immature_ he is being."

Silence lingered.

The two, utterly mystified, shot confused and puzzled glances at each other, unable to produce any words. That smile, however, _still_ stretched across Vincent's lips, made Gilbert's stomach turn, to the point where he didn't _want_ to reply.

"You are joking, correct?" Vincent snarled, derisively. "I do apologise, but if you have thrown your son out of your home for being gay, I'm afraid my respect for you may have just disappeared in an instant."

"Watch your tongue, boy. You have no right to tell me how to parent my own children. You _are_ my child," he said sternly, glaring solidly at Vincent. "Elliot will come to terms with himself eventually. This phase means nothing in his life."

"You are disgusting." Vincent's smile promptly died, being replaced by a nasty, repulsed expression of disrespect. "Tell me, _father_ , how can someone so esteemed as yourself be so ignorant, and _naive_ towards your own son?"

"My _son_ is not gay. That is simply fact. I did not raise him to conform to such an absurd social construct."

"Ah, so you think it's a choice?" Narrowing his eyes at him, Vincent continued, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. "How about I tell you something? Do you remember that business man, a few months ago, who you considered your rival? Ah, and you tasked me with obtaining information, correct?"

"Where are you going with this?" Bernard interrogated, transparently unimpressed.

"Well, you always wanted to know how I _got_ that information. Do you want to know?" Vincent's words shifted to nothing short of disturbing. "I slept with him. There. Am I no longer your son? Or would disowning the adopted kid hurt your reputation?"

From beside him, Gilbert cocked an eyebrow, trying to find the relevance in his revelation. He felt constricted to silence, unable to speak his opinion, and voice how _wrong_ all of this was.

"That is different! You have no clue what you are talking about!"

"Oh, really? I don't see how this is different. Your perception is equally as fucked up, regardless of context," Vincent spat. "You're ill-informed. Elliot deserves better than _you_ as a father! You don't even _get_ to call yourself a father, and by no means are you _my_ father."

"You will watch what you're saying this _instant_! Keep in mind who you are speaking to! Are those drugs you're taking messing with your rationality? Learn your place, _boy_."

"Disgusting. _Repulsive_. You're nothing but scum," Vincent snarled again, spinning on his heel. He wouldn't show it, but Gilbert could tell that last comment had crossed the line. He'd taken it personally. Storming towards the door, Vincent didn't turn back to face Bernard until delicately trembling fingers wrapped around the glass of water at the door, and then launched it at him. The glass shattered against the table, their so-called father visibly fuming. Vincent, however, wasn't done. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Your son is struggling with something you're too privileged to know anything about. He'll be better off away from this place anyway."

With that, he left, slamming the door behind him so hard that the room shook.

"Sir, I-I don't want to cause trouble for you," Gilbert stammered, but shot a weak glare at him nonetheless. "But you shouldn't have brought the medication into this. This is about Elliot, not Vince."

"Do not tell me what to do, young man," Bernard said firmly. "I think you _as well_ need to learn your place within this household. Leave at once."

Willingly, without another word, Gilbert left. His heart physically hurt. He couldn't stand to be in there for another second.

When he got out, he spotted Vincent straight away, already in the car. His gaze was terrifying, to be blunt. His attention appeared to be isolated to nothing but hate, and Gilbert didn't dare to utter a single word as he climbed into the car, rolled down the windows, and lit a cigarette.

"So… what are we going to do?" Gilbert questioned cautiously, pulling out of the driveway as fast as he could. "He can't just stay at the hospital."

"Ah, Gil. There's only one thing we _can_ do," Vincent said. A shudder surged through the other when he spoke, his tone downright concerning. "We have to take him in."

"Yeah, a-alright…" Gilbert nodded. Evidently, he was not as confident in his own words as he would've liked to be. "We… we can make this work."

* * *

With yet _another_ miracle and a half, Leo made it to 24 hours.

However, around 1pm, neither him or Elliot having spoken to each other since his earlier endeavour, he was really reaching his limit.

Not saying a word about it, he'd spent the last hour tossing and turning; sweating and shaking. Elliot, reading the textbook at the side of the room also in silence, couldn't tear his eyes away from him, worry stirring at the pit of his stomach. Why couldn't he just _ask_ for help?

His eyes averting to Leo once again, Elliot lost all concentration on the textbook, watching the other breath in sharply, lay completely motionless for a few moments, and then turn onto his back. With his eyes screwed shut behind the glasses he had refused to take off, he placed an arm over his forehead, exhaling deeply.

Elliot held his breath until Leo spoke. "Elliot?"

"Hm?" He pretended to be surprised, but really, he was _certain_ he knew what would be asked.

"What… exactly am I supposed to use as a bathroom in this place?"

Hastily, Elliot placed the textbook down, scanning the room whilst trying not to panic. Sure, he'd expected that question, but found he had no suitable answer once confronted with it. To no surprise, the nurses still had Leo hooked up to the IV, feeding him a constant stream of painkillers to supposedly help the back pain, and fluids to prevent dehydration. None of it was helping, obviously. "Well… w-what kind of, um, _bathroom_ do you need?"

"I'm not sure yet," Leo said uneasily, visibly grimacing. Then, with another panicked, shaky exhale, he added, "Please get someone quickly."

"O-Ok," Elliot stuttered, shooting out of the chair and hurriedly proceeding out the room. Fortunately, two of the nurses he'd assumed were on shift were standing directly outside the corridor, chatting idly.

The moment he rushed over, however, they instantly turned their attention to him, exchanging worried glances. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, the uh, the patient feels sick, I think?" he said, unsure. "I don't know."

"Okay, w-we'll speak to him," they said, shuffling into the room. "Would you mind waiting outside, please? For privacy."

"Oh, of course…" Elliot reluctantly obliged. Briefly, however, it did cross his mind that there probably wasn't anything he hadn't seen, and that Leo most likely would've preferred him there. But he respected the nurses, and didn't feel like he was really in the position to protest.

He couldn't decipher what they were saying once the door had closed, but it sounded distinctly frantic. Then, about a minute later, they slipped out the door, leaving Leo alone, _for privacy_.

Elliot wanted to ask what was wrong, despite knowing he wasn't in the place to ask. The way the nurses likely saw it, this was a matter of privacy, and therefore would stay confidential.

"Excuse me," One of them spoke up, snatching Elliot's attention from his thoughts. "I don't mean to sound rude, but I feel like I recognise you from somewhere."

 _Are you joking?_ Elliot mentally facepalmed. _I am never setting foot in a hospital ever again._ "Uh, well, my _father_ is the, er, head of the Nightrays?" he answered, unwillingly to speak much of his father. The father who had sort of disowned him. _'Father'_.

"Ah, that must be it," they smiled, respectfully leaving him to himself.

It took at least five minutes before the two nurses' idle, quiet, whispered conversation came to its natural end, at which point they hesitantly knocked on the door again, and re-entered after receiving no response. Elliot was, sure enough, not allowed back in until they wandered back into the corridor, carrying what seemed to be a cleaning bag.

When he returned, Leo was already back in the bed, shaking under the covers as if nothing had just happened.

"What was it?" Elliot asked, awkwardly sitting back down on the chair.

"Well it wasn't puking, let's just say that," Leo grunted, his back pointedly to Elliot. "That was undoubtably the most humiliating thing I have ever had to do."

"What happens next time?" he said, unquestionably under the assumption that there _would be_ a next time.

"There's disposable buckets over there," Leo murmured, his face pressed to the pillow. "And they've hooked me up to something, I don't remember. Probably Imodium."

Elliot chose to remain silent, picking the textbook back up and 'revising'.

"Fuck," Leo cursed audibly, tossing and turning and trembling repeatedly. "I can't even sleep this time."

"How… um, how is your back?"

"This is not the worst stage, but it already feels like someone took a hammer to it." Leo sighed out loud, and rotated himself once again. "This shithole reminds me of when we first came here…"

As usual, Elliot couldn't think of a suitable response, simply lowering his head to the floor out of pity for the other, whilst trying not to remember or think about what the _"worst stage"_ was really like.

* * *

Nights were, like _last time_ , always going to be the hardest.

Elliot, _like last time_ , hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and it was now 2am. He knew his patience and tolerance would be wearing very thin, but for _Leo's_ sake, _this_ time, he had to push through.

It helped that, after earlier, Leo was finally asleep. Somehow, they'd persuaded him to eat dinner, which he was capable of keeping in him for about 5 minutes, before once again, the nurses were rushing back in there, and Elliot was escorted out.

And as Leo _continuously_ repeated to himself, _this was not the worst stage._

Elliot was trying desperately to sleep, exhausted from catering to Leo all day, and listening to his pointless complaints. But sleeping upright in the chair was easier said than done, and it didn't matter that _he_ wanted to sleep, because Leo had been stirring repeatedly for the last 10 minutes or so, sending Elliot straight back into the endless cycle of incessant worrying.

His breathing was strained, and Elliot couldn't help but think he was having a nightmare of some sorts. His father's death, perhaps?

Before he could contemplate anymore, Leo shot up, so abruptly that it made Elliot physically jolt.

He was panicked, to say the least, hastily scanning his surroundings with widened eyes and wracked breaths. And despite his vision panning to Elliot multiple times, he didn't register his presence, evidently unable to comprehend where he was or what was happening.

There were tears, streams of them, pouring down his face, but once again, he didn't appear to have acknowledged that either.

Speechless, Elliot did nothing except stand by his side, waiting for him to regain his composure, and remember why he was shaking and sweating and crying so much. Before he was able to, however, he froze, retched, and Elliot had approximately half a second to hand him one of the disposable buckets, and turn away and shut his ears.

Leo, now coming to, seemingly sobered-up by the nausea, also turned away from Elliot, placing the bucket by the side of the pillow and dry heaving endlessly.

In that time, one of the nurses arrived as well, attempting to be of help but instead being pushed away.

"Shit," Leo spat, freely allowing the nurse to dispose of his puke as he collapsed back against the mattress.

"We'll give the next dose of Imodium, as well as more fluids," she explained, attempting to send a smile his way but sure enough, her attempts at kindness were totally dismissed. Methodically, almost, she switched the IV drips, Leo not daring to move a muscle, spare the visible shaking. "Is there anything else you need?"

"60mg of Oxy," Leo said, turning back over to face Elliot.

"Wait," Elliot cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you were on 40?"

"I was." The noirette shrugged. "But, you know. Tolerance. Oh, and heroin."

"… right."

"I'm afraid we can't do that," she said.

"It was sarcasm," Leo said, his words on the edge of biting, but not quite there. His voice cracked, too, and Elliot could tell he was reaching his emotional limit at this point. "You can go now."

A tad intimidated, the nurse hurriedly shuffled out the room.

"So…" Elliot started hesitantly, wondering if he was even in the position to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. "What was… your nightmare about?"

At the mere mention of it, the stream of tears which had only temporarily halted immediately continued. Leo sniffed, shielding his face with a trembling hand and averting his gaze to the adjacent wall. Then, with a slight pause, but with tears still leaking from his eyes, he retched again, gesturing to the buckets.

Elliot promptly handed him one, but he didn't use it, instead placing it beside his head, waiting for the wave of nausea to wash over him, and then giving his response. "My father's death. A-All of it."

"Ah…" Elliot stammered. It was a rubbish reply, but what _else_ was he even supposed to say, when Leo had _yet_ to finish crying his eyes out over it? "Does… does that happen a lot?"

Brusquely, Leo shook his head. "That… vague sense of being high meant I sort of just… ignored it."

"Oh…"

Once again, it was a pathetic response, but Elliot honestly could not think of anything better. Particularly when Leo resumed sobbing almost straight after, choking back a gag and continuing to cry.

Then, his words strained, and barely noticeable, he confessed something which Elliot had _not_ been expected. "I miss him. Everything just… went to shit, when he died. And I… never thought any of that would happen to _me_."

"Well…" Elliot, overcome by a strange sense of nostalgia and lost for words, tripped over his tongue, and was left internally pondering whether he should voice the next question at the forefront of his mind. "What was… your father like?"

Leo seemed to contemplate on the question for a little while; at least a minute. His focus was stolen by the wall, on the opposite side of the room to where Elliot was, a child-like was pout stretched across his lips, remaining there until the tears finally came to an end, and he spoke. "Kind, and strong, I guess. He took me out to the restaurant he ran a lot." Behind the nonchalant intonation of his words and the expression of melancholy on his face, Elliot could tell that, really, this meant a lot to him. "There was this one time, when I was really sick, for several days; norovirus, or something. And I was a frail child, so I got ill a lot. And he… stuck by my side, for the entire week."

"That's… nice, I guess."

"Yeah…" Leo muttered, wiping the tears away, but found himself still unable to crack a smile. "He used to smoke, as well. Until I was 10, at least. It was a habit he was never proud of. My mother used to explain to me that it was something I should never do, because I'd never be able to stop it. Then... he was really grumpy one day, and I asked my mother why, and she said he'd finally quit the 'bad habit' and that he'd done it for me. And… he probably had, now that I think about it."

"That's… impressive," Elliot said vaguely. What _else_ was he to say? All these stories were so overwhelming to him.

Sure enough, a moment later, Leo began crying again, tears trailing down his face each time he sniffed. The image of his father was one he simply could not erase. "I can't even… imagine what he'd say, i-if he saw me like _this_."

"Well…" Elliot started cautiously, dragging a finger over the edge of the bed, with his head turned towards the floor. "How about… you answer that question? What… _would_ he do, if he saw you right now?"

Still sobbing to himself, his voice cracking, Leo gave a response eventually. "Tell me to man up, probably. And then… sit with me throughout all of this, until this hell is over, repeating to me over and over t-that… it's not my fault." Then, for the first time in 24 hours, Leo smiled. "I wish he was here right now."

"Yeah…" Elliot found himself smiling too. "I… wish I could've met him."

Leo's smile faded within the next few seconds, as he froze, sat up, and hastily grabbed the bucket. He gagged harshly, leaning over the bucket to the side of him and bringing up nothing but water.

Hesitantly, Elliot began rubbing comforting circles on his back, waiting for him to stop throwing up. And, fortunately, after about a minute or so, he did, collapsing backwards with a heavy, disgusted sigh.

He panted for another few seconds, the stream of tears slowly coming to an end. Then, without prompting, he continued to answer Elliot's question. "When… this was over, he'd take me out to his restaurant, and then... try everything he could to get me to stop smoking. Just like he did." Another pause, and an exasperated, slightly irritated sigh. "Oh my god, I need a cigarette, so badly."

Wordlessly, Elliot pulled the e-cigarette out from inside his pocket, handing it to the other, who proceeded to use it just once, before handing it back to him. He exhaled the vapour incredibly slowly, closing his eyes. "I need to apologise to my mother. She... this was completely out of her depth. And I... I just made everything worse."

"You never asked for this to happen to you."

"I know that. I just... wish I told her. And then maybe things would've... gone a bit better."

Elliot couldn't help but agree. But internally. Only internally.

As he drifted off to sleep, Leo felt compelled to mutter one last thing: "That's what... my father would've wanted me to do, at least."

Satisfied, a slight smile tugged at Elliot's lips, as he ran his fingers through Leo's hair, and tried to seek comfort in knowing that at least one of them had a good relationship with their father.

And this time, it was _him_ who was at loss.


	14. Chapter 14

_**(A/Ns: so you thought i was waiting until after Christmas to update this one? HAHA. ok but i promise, this is the last time you'll read leo crying in this fic. take that how you will. also more Elliot-gilbert bro interactions because This Deserves More.**_

 _ **please leave a review if you can!**_

 _ **content warnings: refs to smoking, drug withdrawal, mentions of addiction, mentions of homosexuality/coming out/homophobia, vomiting, intense crying again, suicide attempt, refs to self harm, suicidal connotations, mentions of schizophrenia, prescription drug abuse, mentions of family death.**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

"Elliot! Wait up!"

The moment he heard those words, Elliot was struck by a sudden, overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. It was just like things were normal again, and it almost scared him.

Because things _weren't_ normal. No, they were far from it.

For one, he'd spent the entire weekend in a hospital, catering to Leo. Rubbing his back whilst he threw up violently, passing him buckets and towels and tissues, listening to his seemingly endless complaining. It was all he'd done, and to say he'd gotten sick of it would be an understatement, but for _Leo's_ sake, he had to push through. And push through _with_ him.

And, speaking of Leo, that was another thing. Leo was his boyfriend now. This really _was_ something he couldn't get his head around. Everything from _that_ night was a blur, the only thing he remembered vividly being when his father threw him out.

Ever since then, he hadn't been back to his house. He hadn't spoken to his father. He hadn't spoken to Vanessa. Despite that, though, he did have somewhere to go.

Clearly, Gilbert and Vincent had been told, because late yesterday evening, the Sunday before he was due to return to school when the withdrawals were coming close to their peak, Gilbert came to pick him up. It took little convincing to get him to come and stay with his adoptive brothers, temporarily inhabiting their guest room.

And when he woke up this morning, it was the first time he'd felt genuinely refreshed.

Sure enough, Oz bounced up beside him a few seconds later. "Break wanted to speak to you today at lunch. So… hehe, now."

"Why the hell didn't he tell me that in Chemistry then?" Elliot grunted, his mind flashing back to his admittedly lonely Chemistry lesson this morning. Nevertheless, he still spun on his heel, turning back towards the Science block. "Fine. Whatever."

In truth, Elliot was itching to know how Leo was. He hadn't heard from him since yesterday morning. He dreaded finding out why Break had called to see him. Had Oswald heard something again?

Had Leo died?

At the very thought of such an occurrence, his chest tightened, and he had to immediately ban the thought from crossing his mind, or else he'd almost certainly break down, right then and there.

Before he knew it, they made it to Break's classroom. Break, seemingly unaware they'd just wandered in, was standing at the whiteboard, tapping the pen against his lips repeatedly, in front of several complex skeletal formulas which Elliot couldn't even begin to understand. He was deeply in focus, and neither Oz or Elliot dared to speak.

A minute or so later, Break finally pulled the pen away from his lips, wiping out one of the lines and drawing on another functional group. Elliot guessed so, at least.

At that point, he turned his head slightly, a laughing smile tugging at his lips as he pulled away from the whiteboard. "Ah, forgive me for not noticing you. I just had my year 13 class. Lovely students, but some of the questions they dream up are truly perplexing." He gave out another amused chuckle, wandering over to his desk, unwrapping a new lollipop, and gesturing to the seats in front of him. "So, what brings you here on this fine lunch~?"

"Well… Oz said you called me here," Elliot said, hesitantly taking a seat. "Did… something happen?"

The blank stare from Break made Elliot panic for a moment. But, fortunately, a moment later, all his fears were diminished. (Mostly.) "Not at all~!" He smiled, once again. "I was hoping _you_ would have something to tell _me_."

"Well…"

"I'll take that as a yes then~" Break chimed.

"He…" Elliot started, at first hesitant, but soon realising that he'd already told Break enough of Leo's secrets by this point. "He and his father had a… a really good relationship, actually." At the mere thought of his own relationship with his father, especially right now, Elliot felt his hands beginning to tremble. He averted his gaze to the floor, fiddling with his hands in his lap. "He, uh, woke up from a nightmare at about his death, and he was… pretty shaken. I think… the drugs meant he never grieved fully."

"Upsetting," Break said, and he spoke from the heart. "Ah, I haven't told you about Emily, have I?"

Oz and Elliot stared blankly at each other in sync, and then shook their heads.

"I would rather _not_ go into _too_ much detail, but… she was my younger sister," Break said. His tone was sullen, and nonchalant, and like Elliot, his focus had abruptly shifted to his hands in his lap. "She passed away when I had just graduated. Cancer. Terrible, really. If it wasn't for my partner, I wouldn't have gotten through that period in my life."

"That's so sad…" Oz said, his words sincere. And he wouldn't say it – he'd only discussed it with Elliot once in his entire life – but the conversation regarding family relationships hit extremely close to home for him, too. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Break."

"Ah, there's nothing to be done now, right~?" Break, despite everything, was still able to paint a smile back on his face. "Now, please do send Leo my condolences when you see him later."

"Yeah…" Elliot nodded, sliding out of the chair and beginning to head to the door. A couple of seconds later, however, he halted in his steps. "Wait, how did you know I was going to the hospital later?"

"Fufu, your brother told me~" Break snickered. "Pass on the message for me though, please~"

Somehow, at that, Elliot was just about to crack a smile as well. "Yeah, I will…"

* * *

Since temporarily (he hoped) moving in with Gilbert, surprisingly, Elliot hadn't actually gotten the chance to speak to him directly about what had _actually_ happened.

And he could just _tell_ that Gilbert _wanted_ to have this conversation, regardless of how _awkward_ it would inevitably be.

Really, though, he couldn't exactly blame him. Elliot hadn't told him or Vincent anything about why he'd been thrown out. Of course, they'd probably heard about it by now, particularly after offering to let him stay at theirs, but they couldn't have heard _Elliot's_ side of it.

Elliot really hoped they'd be _on_ his side, as well.

Currently, after the school day had just finished, they were in Gilbert's car, driving to the hospital for him to visit Leo again. And each time Gilbert drew in a deep breath, Elliot found himself holding his.

"Look, I…" Gilbert, sure enough, started hesitantly. "I know we haven't talked about this much, but I… think we need to. E-Especially if you're going to be… staying at ours for… quite some time."

"I'd rather go home… well, _sort of_ ," Elliot grumbled. Then, he sighed, mentally preparing himself for this talk. "How much have you already been told?"

"Well, your father told me and Vince that you'd… _come out_ as gay, and… that you had something going on with Leo?"

"Yeah," Elliot admitted under his breath, barely being heard. He focused his gaze on the road ahead, rather than risking eye contact with his brother during _this_ conversation.

"Look, I-I know we haven't discussed this much, because… you got back late last night, but…" Another deep breath; Elliot could tell this was uncomfortable for him too. "You could've come to us about it. We were born in this era. Vince got really defensive, actually. He and your father had a large falling out over it. They're still not speaking." Gilbert's next comment was discreet, but still heard nevertheless. "Vince _also_ thought it would be relevant to reveal his pastime of hooking up with _literally anyone_ for information."

Elliot didn't say anything.

"We're okay with it, Elliot. Really. It doesn't matter."

There was no _way_ he was going to get choked up at this _again_. So, instead of letting his emotions spill, he simply swallowed down the pressure welling up in his chest, waiting until the feeling passed before looking back at Gilbert. He seemed on edge, and Elliot wasn't entirely sure whether it was because of the touchy subject at hand, or something else completely.

"You can smoke if you want to. I don't care." At the very _least_ , Elliot could give him that much. (It was hardly like he wasn't used to it by now anyway.)

Initially, Gilbert appeared startled; only then did Elliot remember he had never personally told him about that. But the look of irritation which spread across Gilbert's face a moment later was enough of a giveaway that he'd successfully put two and two together. Blatantly pissed off, he muttered under his breath, "For God's sake Break, I will get you back for this…" Soon after, however, he brushed it off. "I… had one at lunch, so… I'll be fine. Our father would never forgive me if he found out."

Elliot couldn't help but crack a smile. "That would make two of us."

"Look, I'm sure he'll… come around. _Eventually_." Emphasis on 'eventually'. "So… you spoke to Break about that?"

"Um, briefly…" Elliot said. "Leo… smokes as well."

It didn't take long for Gilbert to realise he could easily get back at Break. "I'm… guessing he told you about how he managed to quit on his first attempt. And that I, er, failed."

"Yeah…"

"I'm guessing he _didn't_ think to tell you about how he was considerably _worse_ than me," Gilbert grunted. Evidently, these memories frustrated him, but that didn't make them any less true, unfortunately. And the fact that he probably wanted to smoke in that moment most likely didn't help; it made Elliot laugh inside. It reminded him of Leo. "I'm not exaggerating when I say he smoked almost _twice_ as much as me. And he was a pain in the _ass_ when he wanted a smoke, which was _literally_ every _hour_. And don't even get me _started_ on exams."

"Wow, you… sure do know a lot about him," Elliot said, slumping back against the chair.

"Yeah, unfortunately… but, he's still annoyingly smart. He got a first-class degree. Somehow," Gilbert grumbled, partially jealous but mostly just genuinely confused. "So, did you… tell him that you're gay, as well?"

"Um, yeah…" Elliot confessed sheepishly, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. He felt guilty, ultimately. "Sorry I didn't… go to you and Vince about it. I… was scared you'd go to… to father about it. N-Not that you would, or anything, but-"

"It's fine, Elliot. Really," Gilbert reassured, cracking a smile at him. "It makes sense that you'd go to Break about that."

Only then did it click with him.

"Wait, is…" Elliot began to question, incredibly cautiously. "… Break gay too, by any chance?"

His question was answered by the fact Gilbert seemed hesitant to respond, instead biting his lip and saying nothing at first. "I… look, I'm not _really_ supposed to tell you this, but… yes. Yes he is. He's… actually been engaged to another man for a few months now."

Elliot was speechless. Oh, and he also felt like a total idiot for not noticing the ring.

And for not _realising_ that there were always people out there for him. Oz, Break, Vincent, Gilbert – he could've gone to any of them about any of this, and yet he kept it inside and didn't tell anyone?

It was a shame Leo didn't feel the same way. It was a shame he _didn't_ believe there to be people out there for him.

"So… sorry to ask about this, but…" Gilbert began to ask awkwardly, albeit it there was no _way_ his question would be as awkward as what Elliot had asked him. "What… was Leo on, again?"

"It's, er, a prescription painkiller. OxyContin." Elliot shifted, once again wondering if he should be spilling Leo's secrets to so many people. "He'd… technically been on it since he was 12, I think. His father died, and his relationship with his mother just… fell apart, pretty much. Um, he was also diagnosed with some explosive disorder, as well… but refused to take the meds the doctors gave him. I'm… not surprised he doesn't trust them, really."

At that, Gilbert froze.

Elliot couldn't tell what it was he'd said which prompted the silence. He'd clearly said _something_ which made him uncomfortable. But despite his stares, Gilbert wasn't very encouraged to respond. Instead, he seemed to be thinking intensely about something.

Then, after a long, deep sigh, he spoke. "I'm… look, I probably shouldn't be telling you about this, but… I feel like it's a good time to talk about it." When Elliot didn't reply, Gilbert continued – after enough sharp inhale. "Do you ever notice, maybe… at the end of lesson, Vince takes this… handful of pills? Or… maybe when no one is watching?"

For a few moments, Elliot considered the question in-depth. Now that the memories were triggered, he could recall the multiple occasions he had witnessed it in detail. And suddenly what Gilbert said made sense. "Um, yeah. Well, now that you mention it…"

Silence, again.

"What are they?"

"Well… it's a combination Zyprexa and Risperdal. He's… been taking them for several years now, for a… a pretty severe case of schizophrenia." Sure enough, Gilbert had to pause again, swallow thickly, and draw in yet another deep breath; evidently, this was painful for him to address. "I worry for him, t-to tell the truth. He… never says whether they work or… if he still hears the voices. I don't know if the meds even work. He takes over… three times the dose, I think. So… I'm guessing they don't."

It hurt Elliot to know that yet another person so close to him was struggling with such a major thing. Major, but unrecognised. But at the end of the day, Elliot _himself_ had no _clue_ what this was actually like to live through. Pure hell was all he could fathom; the reality of it probably transcended that. "Has he… ever tried to, um, stop them?"

"Once," Gilbert answered briefly, shifting uncomfortably in the driver's seat as they came to a stop. "He was thrown into the most horrible withdrawal, so… it didn't last long."

"Oh…"

"Yeah…" It was obvious that the truth of the matter hurt Gilbert, as well. "That's… really the main reason I still live with him. I can't trust him alone with the pills."

Elliot fell silent, unable to think of a suitable response one again.

"You can't tell him you know this, by the way," Gilbert muttered. "You're not… _technically_ supposed to know it."

"I won't tell him," Elliot said, as firmly as he could. Then, regretfully, he laughed to himself. _At_ himself. "I think I've already ruined someone else's life that way. I'd… I don't want to make the same mistake again."

* * *

It only took five more minutes in the car of silence before they arrived at the hospital, Elliot jumping straight out of the car with a brief thank-you, and no other word.

If it were up to him, he'd have some space. Some space and time alone to let everything he'd just been told sync in. But the fact was that he _couldn't._ He was here to see _Leo_ ; any concerns for his brother would have to wait.

The first thing he noticed which was out of the ordinary was Leo's mother, standing across from Leo's room with her arms folded over her chest. A light tremble in her hands was visible, the worry-stricken gaze spread across her face making Elliot's stomach turn.

Something had happened. It was painfully obvious.

As Elliot approached Emma, she didn't notice his presence until he was within a couple of meters of her. With a visible jolt, she subsequently shot a brief, forced a smile at him, before her face returned to its nauseatingly anxious expression

"Did something happen?" Elliot asked tentatively. Pointlessly. He already knew what the answer would be.

"Yes. He, um… had a slight _accident_ , and then, uh… smashed the IV tube."

Elliot's heart began to thump aggressively within his chest. "What… happened?"

"He, um, he used the broken glass, t-to cut himself," she said, an audible tremble to her words. Her hands shook as well, and like every other time Elliot had spoken to her, tears were visibly brimming in her eyes. "He was taken in for emergency stitches, and they're just cleaning now, but he's… remained conscious, so he's been pretty explosive, hence I'm… out here."

"I'm… sorry to hear that." It sounded rubbish, but Elliot genuinely couldn't think of anything better.

Emma fell silent for a few moments, carefully selecting her next few words, before lowering her head to the floor. "He… the cut was down his wrist, so I… I think it was a suicide attempt."

At that, Elliot physically felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Leo had… really tried to end his life.

The guilt he'd felt before was in no way comparable to how he felt right now. He hated himself for just knowing about the drugs. It felt like yesterday he'd discovered them.

It was his fault. All of it. If it wasn't for him ratting him out, he wouldn't have had to detox, and go through all of _this._

And he wouldn't have been reduced to nothing but suicidal thoughts.

Nonetheless, Elliot still couldn't convince himself that this wasn't worth it. Leo deserved better than a life like _this_. So _what_ if _this_ happened in the process?

If he could finally lead a normal life, once this was all done, then it _would_ all be worth it.

"I'm… sorry to hear that," Elliot murmured. "I really hate to… to think about what he must've been going through, t-to do that."

"I'd rather not know, to be honest," Emma said sheepishly. "He texted me his confession this morning."

Elliot blinked at her, confusedly. "Sorry?"

"He told me everything, in a text," she explained, slipping her phone out of her pocket, and then holding it out to him. "Here. You… you should read it."

"Um, t-thank you."

Cautiously, Elliot took the phone, his gaze immediately dropping to the solid paragraph of text.

 ** _[From Leo, 10:34]  
_** _i know this isn't something you're expecting to receive, and i know it's bullshit doing it over text. but the reality is that i can't face up to everything that's happened in person. the first thing i need to say is sorry. i'm sorry for everything. i never meant for any of what happened to happen the way it did, but the fact is that it did happen. do you remember oxycontin? the drug i was given for back pain? yeah, well apart from the heroin, it was actually oxy. it was the oxy which took over my life for 4 years. i dont want to go into all the details here, but one thing led to another, and soon enough, my use and abuse of the painkiller had totally spiralled out of control. my tolerance went up and up and up and eventually i had to start injecting the drug. i never really wanted to be high, but it got to the point where the only way i could avoid withdrawals was by injecting them. im sorry about everything. the money, the stealing, the lying, the smoking, the arguing. i've been the shittest child you could have ever had. i know that and i dont deny it, and i deserve none of the help im getting. but please help me. i cant get out of this alone. i need actual help, and therapists, and medication. im beyond sick of living my life as an addict and i cannot do anything else other than beg for help. i hope you receive this message. even if it's the last thing you ever acknowledge from me, i want it to be my apology._

Unaware he'd been holding his breath the entire time, he exhaled a heavy sigh, handing the phone back to Emma before facing forward. "That's… really quite raw."

"It all makes sense now," she said, somewhat to herself. "Everything. The… the money disappearances, the aggression, the secrecy. Everything. It just… it hits hard, that he's been living with that burden, and I just… didn't know."

"I can't pretend I know what you're going through, but… it… must feel good he wants your help, right? I-I mean, at least he doesn't _want_ to fight it alone anymore."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." For the first time ever, the smile she responded to Elliot with seemed genuine. "I… would have to thank you again, for that. He… I think you regained his trust in people. Because he trusts _you_ already, not me. And I… really can't thank you enough for that."

"Really, it's… no problem…" Elliot said unsurely, his words gradually losing confidence. "Even if it was hard, I think it's worth it. Give it time."

Her smile remained. "I hope so too."

About a minute later, the door to Leo opened again, one of the nurses slipping out. Immediately, she laid eyes on Elliot, shooting him a perplexed glance. "Are you supposed to be here?"

Emma's mouth dropped open to answer, but before she could, Elliot cut in. "I'm his, er… friend?"

The confused by subtly amused look he received from Emma suggested either Leo had told her about their relationship, or she'd figured it out at some point. "Let him see Leo. He'll be glad to see him."

(Yep, she definitely knew.)

"Ok…" The nurse didn't seem convinced. Nonetheless, she still went with it, allowing Elliot into the room. "Don't let him get out of bed, the stitches are still fragile."

Elliot nodded, thanked the nurse, and then stepped past the threshold into the room.

"What are you doing here?" was his initial greeting from Leo. The words were spoken with bitterness and blatant irritation, along with an obvious, audible tremble.

It had reached 72 hours by now. This was to be expected.

Regardless, Elliot thought it would be a good idea to sprinkle a little sarcasm on his response. "It's nice to see you too."

With the scowl across his sweat-glazed face deepening, Leo picked up the cup of water on his bedside table, and threw it at Elliot. The moment he did, however, he flinched, collapsing back against the bed with a pained hiss. "Shit. These painkillers do fuck all."

"You should be nicer to the nurses," Elliot muttered, cautiously approaching the side of the bed. "They're trying to help you."

"Yeah well they're _not_ ," Leo scoffed. "They piss me off."

A heavy silence consumed the room, neither of them willing to speak to break it. Instead, Elliot chose to remain totally silence, whilst Leo did nothing except glare at the adjacent wall, it seemed.

Until Elliot spoke, that was. "Why… did you try to off yourself? You've… already gotten this far."

Immediately, Leo's glare cracked, and next thing Elliot heard was a strained sob. He was tempted to think _'not again',_ but put that thought past him, and said nothing. Instead, he simply rubbed Leo's shoulder comfortingly, waiting for him to stop trembling. Just slightly; enough to speak.

After crying nearly silently for five minutes straight, Leo drew in a shaky, shallow breath, and gave an answer. "That's the _point_." He sniffed. "I don't… _want_ to keep doing this. I… don't _want_ to be clean anymore. I just want it to _end_."

Speechless, all Elliot could do was watch Leo continue to sob to himself. Despite witnessing this display innumerable times, Elliot had yet to become numb to it. Entirely, at least. His chest still hurt, just watching it. He still felt irrefutable guilt for the other's pain.

"Can you, um, at least sit up?" Elliot asked, his hand gently slipping from Leo's shoulder to his back.

Reluctant at first, Leo eventually nodded, sniffing as he sat up. The moment he was upright, however, he froze instantly, wrapping an arm around his stomach and hunching over. "Ngh, bad idea."

"Do you need another bucket?"

"Soon," Leo spoke, his voice cracking mid-syllable.

As Elliot sauntered around to the opposite side of the room, all he heard was Leo crying endlessly to himself. And when he turned around again, sure enough, Leo's face was buried in his hands – his hands, which shook violently.

Instead of attempting to intervene, and potentially worsening his predicament, Elliot simply remained beside him, holding the bucket ready for when it was needed again.

After another three minutes, of doing nothing but sobbing, Leo halted again, shakily lifting a hand near his mouth. " _Fuck_ , not again."

From the moment his breathing turned shallow, the bucket was promptly handed to him. And the very second Leo grabbed it, he gagged, abruptly bringing up the little acid and water left in his stomach.

Elliot, with the courtesy to look away before feeling nauseous himself, kept a hand on his back. Rubbing soothing circles in his best attempt to comfort him, he didn't move a muscle until Leo had stopped aggressively throwing up. Once he'd been reducing to dry heaving, Elliot – still somewhat holding his breath – took it upon himself to pour the other a cup of water.

Leo took the water, his fingers barely clinging to the plastic of the cup as he brought it to his lips, and took two careful sips. Then, he grimaced, and thrust the drink back into Elliot's grip once he'd disposed of the bucket.

As expected, a heavy silence hung over the room. Neither of them dared to speak at first, Leo still trying to regulate his breathing, and Elliot attempting to wipe the frown off his face.

"This is shit," Leo groaned under his breath, as he slumped backwards onto the mattress and yanked the covers back over him. Turning away from Elliot, he added one last comment. "I need to _smoke_."

"Well… do you want the… the vape again?"

"I don't have it." Even though he couldn't _see_ his face, Elliot could vividly picture the image of Leo's belligerent glare fixed on the wall. "The nurses found it and confiscated it. Assholes."

Unable to think of a suitable response, Elliot did nothing except lift a hand to his head, running his fingers softly through Leo's sweat-matted, dishevelled locks.

The tranquillity, however, was merely temporary, as no less than a minute later, tears began silently trailing down Leo's face once again. His arm snaked around his stomach; stomach cramps, he guessed.

"Please keep going," Elliot begged, "I-I don't care how sappy it sounds, but I don't want you dying on me."

"I'm not going to keep trying just for _you_ ," Leo sobbed, his tone much less threatening and bitter than he'd tried to make it.

"Do it for yourself then."

"And what do I get for it?"

"The life you _deserve_ ," Elliot said, as sympathetically as he could, "You're… smart, and funny, and you… you deserve to _make_ something of yourself."

Leo, saying nothing, only began to tremble more, tears pouring straight down his face onto the pillow. But still, he made no sound, instead trying to focus on Elliot's fingers occasionally touching his scalp through his hair.

And in that moment, Elliot could _tell_ that Leo was so, _so_ close to giving up.

He couldn't give up. Not on his watch, at least.

"Don't worry... whatever it takes, one day... I-I don't know when, but... it'll be better." Elliot smiled. Just barely, but he did nonetheless. It didn't matter if it sounded sappy. "And then you'll... you'll be okay."

At least Leo's crying appeared to have ceased; at least it was comforting for them _both_.

He _wouldn't_ give up.

"So please, Leo, for me, just... just please, hold on… until then.


	15. Chapter 15

_**(A/Ns: AAAAAAH IVE FINISHED IT. aha ok so there's still an epilogue but i have already written that. BUT i'll save the sappy writer's speech for that. i hope the time skip is obvious enough. it's a little shorter than the other chapters but meh. also i know AS Levels dont exist anymore but let's pretend they do. enjoy!**_

 _ **content warnings: smoking, mentions of eating disorders, homophobia, some fluff, drug addiction, swearing, mentions of relapse, the usual once again.**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

He held on.

And it paid off.

That was, by no means, to say it was _easy_. Rather, it was quite the opposite, and if Elliot _or_ Leo were to count the number of times they'd felt the seemingly insatiable desire to simply _give up_ , they'd still be counting – six months on.

Leo spent just over a week in the hospital completing the detox, and then returned home. Home again, as if everything was normal.

However, it wasn't; his normality – living as a high-functioning drug addict – didn't exist anymore.

Nothing was right. Words could not convey the feeling of emptiness, and hopelessness he felt. Coming to terms with… well, _everything_ that had happened was the hardest part.

His father was dead. His mother was unable to uphold a conversation with him. He'd missed over a week of school. He'd lost weight. He still wasn't eating.

But there were no drugs.

Leo's main priority was catching up on school, as well as persistently searching for a way to beat the opiate cravings he experienced innumerable times a day. He couldn't bear to relapse; it would break Elliot's heart to see him go through detox again.

And to tell the truth, it would break him to go through that agonising withdrawal again, too.

To little surprise, within a week of leaving the hospital, Leo picked up smoking again. Well, in his eyes, he'd never really quit in the first place – simply took a break. To tell the truth though, that wasn't really a concern. Sure, it ticked Elliot off when he first found out, but it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

Rebuilding his relationship with his mother was another ordeal.

They tried to speak more. Emma tried to be more tolerant with him, Leo tried not to pick at everything she said. However, ultimately, their progress was minimal, if not totally non-existent. Keeping secrets was too far engraved into Leo's life, and telling her _truthfully_ how he felt – alone, depressed, suicidal, and on the brink of relapse – was just not possible.

That wasn't the only thing he had to work on.

Whilst he was in the hospital, and was able to keep down food again, it soon came to light that two years of making himself sick after every meal had taken its toll. Not only physically, but psychologically too. Thus, after being discharged, working through his semi-developed eating disorder was yet another burden to deal with. A difficult one; one they hadn't accounted for. It was two and half weeks before he was even able to take back control over that part of his life – with mostly Elliot's support – and actually choose to keep food inside him.

Unfortunately, that insignificant glimmer of hope and fleeting sense of achievement wasn't enough.

Shortly after he turned 17, in mid-January, Leo relapsed.

It wasn't just once, either. And both Elliot and Emma reckon that if Elliot hadn't caught him out that day, he would've gone straight from "just once" to a full-blown opioid addiction. Again.

What exactly led to it, neither of them knew.

They did know, however, that for whatever reason, Leo had gone to his dealer and bought four 20mg OxyContin pills. He'd taken one in evening, one the next morning, and was about to get the third fix when Elliot caught him out.

After Oswald contacted his mother, Leo was subsequently taken to the hospital. For one: to check he hadn't overdosed. But also, to see their psychiatrist.

It was at that point he broke.

In the psychiatric ward of the hospital, the moment he and his mother were alone, he broke down.

He apologised, over and over. And so did she.

He'd lied, stole, and kept uncountable secrets from her. But she hadn't been there for him. She hadn't been _enough._

For the first ever, though, they were able to share their grieving.

Thankfully, after this, Leo decided to _willingly_ start therapy, both alone and with his mother. It was as if he'd been struck by the overwhelming courage to just _do something_. _Something_ to get out of the vicious cycle they were stuck in, of lying and stealing and keeping secrets, and ultimately _failing_ in recovery.

That night, after returning from the hospital (once doctors were convinced he wasn't going to go into another withdrawal), he let his mother cut his hair. And shortly after that, he invested in new glasses; ones which _didn't_ cover his entire face.

For the first time in 3 years, his eyes were visible to the world.

Things were really starting to look positive in some aspects.

However, in others… not so much.

Sure, with the assistance of the therapy, the trust between Leo and his mother was slowly being revamped. But in terms of the rest of his family? Not a chance.

One approach their psychiatrist took was helping improve his attitude towards authority, and _that_ involved some rather messy and somewhat toxic therapy sessions with Oswald.

Needless to say, the focus of each usually reverted back to his father – _dead_ father – and that was not something Leo had come to terms with, nor learnt to deal with.

However, despite their differences, they were making _some_ progress, in a sense. It seemed as though maybe, one day, they might even repair that nephew-uncle relationship which once existed.

A little after starting therapy, Leo had also decided to try and quit smoking. Cold turkey, too. To him, it was a habit that came with the drugs. With no drugs, it was ultimately pointless.

He lasted 2 days.

His second attempt was only few weeks later, which was Lottie's birthday party. To cut a very, _very_ long story short, in one 24-hour period, Leo smoked pot, got alcohol poisoning, and was more or less forced by Elliot to stop smoking again.

As expected, however, he failed after only 3 days.

And then _again_ , a month or so later – also under Elliot's jurisdiction, he attempted to quit one last time. This time he lasted a little longer, but ultimately gave up after 6 days.

After _that_ attempt, it was fair to assume he wasn't going to quit any time soon. Even so, with the help of therapy – which was finally, _finally_ starting to work – and Elliot (what a surprise), there was a mutual agreement that Leo would, at the very least, cut down. Needless to say, the success of that plan was highly dependent on the day.

However.

Leo wasn't the only one who had made progress.

The first of Elliot's family to come around to his sexuality was Ernest. It happened shortly after the relapse, when they'd engaged in another nasty argument, Elliot's sexuality of course being the focus of it.

Elliot had left, to no doubt, taking time to himself at the park near their house with himself and a bottle of vodka as company.

Ernest found him.

And surprisingly, he was willing to talk it out. He _listened_ , and accepted. It took time, but it was worth it. Because shortly after that, Ernest somehow convinced Vanessa that really, Elliot was no different.

Vanessa took slightly longer to come around, but eventually, she was able to sit in the same room as Elliot without sparking a fight with him.

Over time, their parents came around, too, albeit their relationship with Vincent and Gilbert never seemed to repair. They also never approved of Leo as Elliot's choice of partner, but at least they – like Ernest – had finally concluded that _he was no different_.

And _all of that_ took the two up to where they are currently: mid-way through their AS Level exams.

* * *

"Leo! Are you awake yet?"

As he placed the last book into his bag, Leo couldn't help but chuckle, the memory of the other day when he'd overslept on an exam day resurfacing. To be specific, it was Elliot's angry phone call which was more amusing to remember.

Nevertheless, today, he was ready early, already dressed and probably ready for the exam. ( _Probably_.)

Halfway through traipsing down the stairs, his phone buzzed inside his pocket, albeit Leo ignored it until he was in the kitchen. Slipping it out of his pocket, he quickly saw that it was Elliot, and so didn't bother reading it.

"Good morning," Emma said, flashing him a brief smile before continuing the washing up.

"And you," Leo said idly in response, as he poured himself a bowl of dry cereal. Once at the table, he dropped his bag onto the floor, and pulled out the AS Level Chemistry textbook, flipping to a random page and skimming over it. In very little detail, though.

"Which exam is it today?"

"Chemistry. Organic Chemistry. Easy stuff," Leo answered, and snickered to himself. "Elliot is picking me up in 15 minutes."

To no surprise, Elliot was taught how to drive on his parents' estate with his own car at 16, and therefore had a car and a licence the moment he turned 17. Leo _would_ say he was jealous, however having a boyfriend with a car who was willing to drive him everywhere was equally as good, in his opinion.

"Well good luck, as always," she said, "Not that you'll need it. You think everything is easy."

"It's not even A Level. Of course it's easy," Leo declared, smirking as he thought of the exact words Elliot would say if he heard him. "This one particularly, though. Plus, I have a good teacher."

"Yes, your teacher…" Emma rolled her eyes. It was an attempt at playing it off as a joke, when really, she was just thinking back to their parents evening, which was… eventful. After everything that had happened, it was certainly awkward, and took an interesting turn, to say the least.

Silence lingered for the next few minutes, but it was a peaceful silence, the only sounds being the running of the tap and the occasional flip of Leo's textbook.

After he finished most of the cereal, Leo pointedly lifted the textbook shut, staring at it in contemplation before placing it into his bag with the rest of his things.

"Are you home early today?"

"No," he replied, and then stood up. Without vacillation, Leo discreetly slipped the cigarette pack from his pocket, clutching it in his palm along with the lighter as he grabbed his bag again and headed towards the door. "There's a revision session for Latin."

"No doubt you'll do amazingly in that one too." Emma smiled at him briefly.

Leo shrugged, opening the pack and counting them individually, before drawing out a single cigarette and pocketing the rest of them. "I'm heading out now. No doubt Elliot will be early."

"Good luck, again."

Waving dismissively, with a slightly smug grin tugging at his lips, Leo promptly did as he'd said. The cigarette between his teeth, he quickly lit it with his back to the breeze. Idly staring at the morning sun, he took another short drag of nicotine, mentally rehearsing stuff he'd probably need for the exam. Not that he needed to, or anything,

As he'd predicted, five minutes before he was due, Elliot's car pulled up to Leo's porch, honking obnoxiously to get Leo's attention.

Dragging on the cigarette once again, Leo responded with a jokingly bitter smile, equally as obnoxious. Elliot scowled back, but nonetheless waited patiently for him to finish the cigarette, snub it out, and join him in the car.

"Good morning," Elliot said nonchalantly.

Leo caught him out. "Don't 'good morning' me. You're shitting yourself and you know it."

"Tch," Elliot scoffed in blatant denial. He extended a hand to the other, and changed the subject. "Cigarettes. I still keep them in here."

"Not on exam days, asshole," Leo retorted under his breath, but still handed them over despite his protests.

With a roll of the eyes, Elliot handed Leo one cigarette from the pack, before shoving them in the glove compartment and finally pulling out of the driveway.

"So," Leo said, cracking his fingers and folding his legs over on the seat; Elliot still couldn't fathom how he sat like that every time and found it _comfortable_. "How are you really feeling?"

"Well…" Elliot chewed on his lower lip nervously. "Organic Chemistry has… always been a… a _weaker_ point."

"You'll be fine."

"Coming from _you_ , that hardly means anything."

"Work hard, play hard. Haven't you learnt anything?" Leo said, smirking as an awkward expression morphed onto Elliot's face. Every now and again, he couldn't resist making a joke out of the drug situation – albeit Elliot had yet to get used to this. "Speaking of which… my mother is away this weekend, so you can come over and stay."

Elliot knew _exactly_ what staying over at Leo's meant, and fighting back the blood rushing to his cheeks was impossible. "Yeah, that's… fine, I guess. I… have a fundraiser, but I can go straight there."

"Oh, does that mean you'll still be in your suit, all dressed up and fancy and shit?"

"Hm, yeah…"

The drive between Leo's house and their college didn't take very long, and within a few minutes, they were pulling into the student car park, and parking in their usual spot.

Elliot tried his best not to let the trembling in his hands show, but it was to no avail.

"You're going to be fine," Leo said once again, honesty laced into his words. "You ready?"

"Yeah… I just, have to do well in Chemistry. Because you know, Medicine, and stuff…"

"Here, let me wish you luck _properly._ "

Despite the fact their fellow classmates could most likely see them, Leo still leaned over, placed a hand in the crook between Elliot's neck and head, and placed his lips softly onto his. And Elliot was so used to this by now that he didn't squirm, or resist – merely melted into the kiss.

A couple of seconds later, Leo pulled away, flashing Elliot an irresistible smile before clambering out of the car.

"Tch, good luck to you too…" Elliot grunted reluctantly, as they headed in the direction of the exam hall.

* * *

They survived the exam.

Currently, it was lunch, the two having just had two free periods, along with Oz. And considering it was mid-June, and the weather was almost unbearably hot, instead of staying in the library, they'd gone to the field to study.

"Alright, I'm done," Leo declared the moment they heard the bell go. Revision cards flung into the air, he settled his head on Elliot's thigh, folded both arms over his stomach and bathed in the afternoon sun's heat. "It's too hot."

"Yes Leo, you can sit on me," Elliot said sarcastically, rolling his eyes to suppress a grin.

"You love it," Leo commented under his breath, mockingly rustling Elliot's hair for a second or two. "Did you pick another duet piece?"

"No," Elliot answered half-heartedly, screwing his face up at the textbook. "I haven't touched the piano in a week."

"Ooh!" Oz perked up, abruptly lifting his head from the textbook. He hadn't spoken too much for the sake of burying his face in revision, which was unusual, but Elliot knew from their GCSEs that Oz never handled exam stress very well. "What about ' _Le Onde'_ by Einaudi?"

"He probably already knows it," Elliot grunted.

"Hm… I don't think so…" Leo tapped a finger to his lips idly.

Elliot glanced down at him, cocking an eyebrow. "I thought you knew all of th-"

"Well well _well_ , what do we have here~?"

"Lottie!" Oz was the first to spot her, strutting over to where they sat.

She took her space on the grass beside Oz, before flinging an arm around the blonde's shoulder. Then, she eyed Elliot and Leo up and down, Leo giving no reaction and Elliot glaring. "What's this little PDA, hm~?"

"Tch, shut up…" Elliot grunted, reverting his gaze to the textbook the moment the usual blush spread across his face.

Cracking one eye open, Leo turned his head towards Lottie. "Is anyone on duty yet?"

"Nope."

"Good," Leo said quietly, as he sat up from Elliot's thigh and shuffled a couple of feet away, crossing his legs up and resettling himself. With a smirk which bluntly said he knew _exactly_ what was to come, he took out the cigarette and lighter Elliot had granted him earlier, stuck the cigarette between his lips, and lit up.

The smell of smoke reaching his nostrils, Oz sat up. "Hey! What happened to cutting down?!"

"That's what I said…" Elliot interjected, shooting a sidelong glare at Leo. "Exams are an exception supposedly."

After a teasing drag from the cigarette, Leo responded with a bitter smile. "Not that I struggle, or anything…"

"Aaaah, I'm jealous of your confidence…" A regretful smile spread across Oz's face, before he resumed whining. "I have Biology tomorrow…"

His smug grin lessening no less, Leo briefly tapped the ash off the cigarette onto the grass, asking, "Are you confident?"

"Well… not really… I'm fine with all the classification stuff, and errrr, cells and the immune system is alright, but I still can't get my head around the genetic stuff…" Oz listed off, sulking, as he once again buried his face in the textbook. "How did you guys' exam go today?"

Leo's smirk only widened. Again. "What do you think, Oz?"

"Oh please, now you're just showing off…" Elliot said, "It was okay. I, uh, messed up the mechanism question though…"

Glancing towards Elliot again, Leo chuckled, flashing back to the other's distress as they left the exam hall. Elliot caught a glimpse of that smile, but it was enough for him to laugh it off.

 _That smile._

Every goddamn time he saw it, there was this warm, comforting sensation which overcame him, making it simply impossible to tear his eyes from Leo.

Where they were now: it was incredible. And every time he thought about it, he thought the same damn thing, nostalgia coursing through his blood each time he looked at the other.

Elliot wasn't sure how long he was lost in his sentimental trance. All he knew was that he was suddenly nudged on the arm, Leo snuffing out the cigarette before resting his head back on his thigh.

With an honest, truthful, _raw_ smile, Leo looked up at him. "It was thanks to you too, you know."

He wasn't a mind reader, but Elliot knew he could tell what he was thinking. And if both their thought trains were going to simultaneously spiral back down into that uncontrollable cycle of reminiscence, then so be it.

"It's been six months exactly. Did you know that?" Leo said, idly scanning the sky above them, occasionally catching a glimpse of Elliot's perplexed, lost expression and snickering. "You know, since I overdosed."

"Yeah, I figured…" Elliot muttered.

Six months, and _this_ was where they were.

Yes, it really was unbelievable.

An awkward smile at his lips, Elliot found himself stuck searching for the right words to continue. "It was worth it, though. For your sake."

"Mhm." Leo's eyes fell shut. "And yours."

"Hm?"

"It was worth it for both of us. We both lost, and we both gained."

This time, as a smile tugged at Elliot's lips, it stemmed from a genuine feeling of satisfaction. Not forced. Not confused. Not unsure.

It was a feeling of contentment and serenity no mere _drug_ could ever bring to them.

Delicately, his fingers raked through Leo's hair, as he titled his head up to the sun, and smiled.

"Yeah, I… guess you're right."


	16. Chapter 16: Epilogue

_**(A/Ns: so, we've reached the end. Yes, i know some of this is repeated from the prologue. Okay so I've been writing this fic for over one year and it's been such a privilege to write. i just want to say a huge thank you to every single one of my readers. you've given me the motivation to write this, and im so proud of how it turned out and the fact i actually finished it, and people liked it?**_

 _ **please leave a review!**_

 _ **content warnings: mentions of addiction and all that.**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Epilogue**

 ** _"_** ** _Nepenthe"_**

 **Noun**

 **1\. a drug or drink, or the plant yielding it, mentioned by ancient writers as having the power to bring forgetfulness of sorrow or trouble.**

 **2\. anything inducing a pleasurable sensation of forgetfulness, especially of sorrow or trouble.**

* * *

 _If you don't remember, my name is Elliot, and this was the story of the extent to which I went in order to fix his life for the better._

 _And_ his _name is Leo._

 _I've long stopped questioning why I did it now. What would be the point? I could not and would not ever take back any of it. I won't take back what I said, either. You can't imagine in. You can't fathom it. You just can't._

 _I don't need regret, though, nor do I need pity for my own decisions. Because I'm happy now._

 _And that person I mentioned? The one I went to hell and back for, just to change his life? The one I spent endless nights on the bathroom floor with? The one I constantly worried for? The one I cried for?_

 _He's happy too._

 _But I'll save the rest of the sappy bullshit for another time; I'm sure you want to know where we are now._

 _It was a surprise for me – not for him, obviously – but we both obtained A's in all four of our AS Levels. And from there, we each got offers to study at the best university in the country, with offers of A*AAA. I would read Medicine, exactly as I'd been raised to do, and he would read English Literature._

 _When it came to our actual A Level exams, in the end, I came out with A*s in Chemistry and Literature, and A's in Latin and Maths._

 _And Leo._

 _Leo got A*s in all four of his A Levels. And it was the first time I'd ever seen him cry of happiness._

 _To say I was jealous would be an understatement. But at the same time, he worked so damn hard. He caught up straight away after he missed those two weeks, and within a few days it was as if he'd never even missed a single minute. And with that natural intelligence, you couldn't have expected any less, either._

 _So really, at the same time, I couldn't have wished any less for him._

 _And the best part to me was that he used the money he would've spent on drugs to pay for university. And now we have a flat together in the city, with a bathroom and kitchen, and balcony. (Because, despite trying another couple of times after our exams, Leo never quite managed to quit the cigarettes entirely.)_

 _I don't believe in fate. Although, whilst I'd like to believe this was just a coincidence, I can't shake the feeling that part was meant to happen._

 _If this didn't happen, where would we be now? I'd be lonely._

 _He'd probably be dead._

 _But he's not, and neither am I. Instead, we're about to make something of ourselves. And when it comes down to it, really, the most important part of his recovery was simply finding the motivation to keep holding on, as well as seeking something to alleviate the doubt each time it seemed fruitless._

 _If that "something" is me – or_ us _– then so be it._

 _His reason to live; his strength._

 _His hope._

 _His relief._

His _Nepenthe, and_ mine _too._

* * *

 _Fin._


End file.
